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

Cinhil drew another deep breath as Alister glanced into the cup and raised
it to eye level with both hands, focusing his attention on the point above their
heads where the cloud had manifested itself seconds earlier.
 "O Lord, Thou art holy, indeed: the fountain of all holiness. Let Uriel, Thy
messenger of darkness and of death, instill this cup with all the strength and
secrets of the earth, that they who shall drink hereof may justly command the
element of Earth. Amen."
Instantly, the cup began to tremble in Alister's hands, the ring inside to
tinkle against the cup, the water to dance so that it threatened to spill over the
rim. At first Cinhil thought it was Alister's hands which shook, as his own had
done; but then they all became aware that other things were rattling and
trembling, that the very floor was vibrating beneath their feet.
The tremor increased, until Cinhil feared the very altar candles must be
toppled from their places. But then the shaking subsided, as quickly as it had
begun. Alister raised the cup higher and inclined his head in acknowledgment
of the Power which had been manifested through his hands, then lowered the
cup and turned his gaze on Cinhil, extending the cup to him.
"The cup is ready, Sire," he said in a low voice. "What remains is in your
hands."
Slowly, soberly, without a trace of fear anymore, Cinhil took the cup and
held it close against his chest as he bowed his head and spoke a final, humble
prayer in his own mind. In front of him, the trembling Alroy had not let out a
whimper, had not moved, but Cinhil could see the fear and dread in the grey
eyes as he looked up and searched his son's face. His hands were steady as he
lifted the cup between them.
"Alroy, you are my son and heir," he said. "Drink. By this mystery shall you
come to the power which is your divine right, as future king of this realm; and
even so shall you instruct your own sons, if that should someday come to pass."
Slowly the boy's hands rose to meet his father's, tipped the cup to his lips so
that he might sip once, twice, again. He shuddered as the cup was taken away
and handed to Joram, closed his eyes, and began trembling more violently as
the geas came upon him. Coolly and dispassionately, Cinhil laid his hands on
the boy's head and sent forth his mind, finding no resistance now that the cup
had done its work.
Forcing ever deeper rapport, he plunged Alroy into the full awakening of all
his Haldane potential, imprinting irresistible compulsions which would hold
and guide him in the use of that potential for so long as he should live.
The boy cried out, a quickly stifled sob of pain and fear, but Cinhil dared not
relent. Though the boy staggered under the outpouring of his father's will,
moaning anew as the final compulsions were set, Cinhil did not ease the flow of
energy until his task was completed. Then he drew the boy to his breast and
cradled the raven head against his bosom, embracing and supporting him as
the lad slipped into unconsciousness. He did not heed the tears which now
streamed openly down his own fatigue-drawn cheeks.
"Sire?" Alister whispered.
"Not yet."
 For a little while longer, Cinhil held the boy, withdrawing slowly, erasing all
conscious memory of what had happened, easing the last vestiges of pain.
Finally, he slipped his arms more closely around the limp little body and picked
the boy up, holding him in his arms with some effort.