"Katherine Kurtz - Camber 3 - Camber the Heretic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

Joram emerged by the glow of a pale sphere of greenish light which floated
near Rhys's head, and Joram gently deposited a small, fur-bundled form on the
carpet in the corner. A twisted foot protruding from under the furs proclaimed
it to be Javan.
Rhys laid the sleeping Alroy beside the small table, tossing the child's furs
to Joram, who then disappeared through the opening again, though this time it
did not close after him. When Cinhil looked back, Rhys was already laying his
hands on Alroy's forehead, eyes closed, while Evaine quietly brought out the
medical kit from under the table.
Cinhil must move now. As he crossed slowly to kneel by Rhys's side,
unfastening the wire which held the great cabochon ruby in his right earlobe,
he watched the Healer swab the right earlobe of his eldest son with something
whose pungent aroma almost made him sneezeтАФstared with fascination as
Rhys's bright needle jabbed through the boy's fair skin. No flicker of awareness
crossed his son's face as the Healer withdrew his needle and wiped away the
little welling of blood, then held out his hand for the stone.
The Eye of Rom, they had called it, when Rhys and Camber had given it to
him so many years beforeтАФcut from a stone which fell from heaven the night of
the Savior's birth, the legend said, and brought to the Child by the Magi, wise
men of the East who had known that this was a stone for kings. Cinhil felt a
twinge of loss as he gave it up, for he had not been without it for all these years
now. The stone was one of the keys to the powers they had given him on that
long-ago night. And as he watched Rhys insert it in his son's earlobe, he knew
that it would protect that child as it had protected him.
He blinkedтАФand realized that Rhys had moved, that the Healer was now
kneeling beside the sleeping Javan, his needle once more flashing in the
candlelight which Evaine had brought. He heaved himself to his feet, but by the
time he had made his way to where the two worked, Rhys had already inserted
the wire of twisted gold which would hold the place for the Eye of Rom to lodge,
should Alroy die without heirs.
Joram returned with the sleeping Rhys Michael then, the mysterious
opening shushing shut with hardly a whisper of sound. As the priest laid the
youngest prince beside his brother Javan, Rhys shifted his attention to that
one, and Joram gestured for the king to join him in the center of the chamber.
With a sigh, Cinhil crossed slowly back to the table with the Michaeline priest.
"I believe we're almost ready, Sire," Joram said in a low voice, kneeling down
beside the sleeping Alroy. "Have you any questions, before we begin?"
Cinhil glanced past Joram at Alister, still kneeling before the altar. "No, I
have none for myself. But, what of Alister? Will he be all right?"
Joram's handsome face creased for just an instant in a gentle smile. "You
need not fear for Father Alister," he said softly. "He is a man of conscience, but
he has worked with us before, very satisfactorily. He knows what he must do,
and is far more reconciled to this kind of work than his outward demeanor
would have one think. Do not underestimate him."
"Nay, I have never done that," Cinhil murmured, laying a hand on Joram's
shoulder briefly. "Alister," he called, raising his voice only slightly, "will you
attend us?"
He watched the grizzled head rise, watched the gnarled hands brace against
cassocked thighs as the bishop got to his feet and turned toward them, his
seamed face calm and without apprehension.