"Katherine Kurtz - Heirs 1 - Harrowing of Gwynedd" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

XXX Where is Uriel the angel, who came unto me at the first? for he hath caused me to fall into many trances.
тАФII Esdras 10:28
appendix I: Index of Characters
appendix II: Index of Places
appendix III: Partial Lineage of the Haldane Kings
appendix IV: The Festillic Kings of Gwynedd and their Descendants
appendix V: Partial Lineage of the MacRories


prologue

Let us now praise famous men, and our fathers that begat us.
тАФEcclesiasticus 44:1



Silvery handfire preceded Evaine MacRorie down the narrow, cut-stone
passageway. It lit the subterranean darkness ahead and glinted the gold of her
coiled and braided hair to tarnished silver, but the dusty black of her gown
swallowed up most of the remaining light.
The close darkness fitted her moodтАФbleak and weary, especially this early
in the morning. She had slept but little after she and Joram finished their work
of the night before. Only the two of them knew what lay this deep beneath the
Michaeline haven that they once again called home, as they had some twelve
years before, when upholding the rights of a now-dead king. The secret of that
knowledge would be guarded by every resource at their disposalтАФand the
resources of Evaine and her kin were by no means inconsiderable, as the
regents of the present king had cause to know full well. Still, caution mingled
with uneasiness as Evaine quietly rounded the last corner.
Different light shimmered cool and opalescent across the doorway she
approached, parting like a curtain at her gesture, but she allowed herself only
the faintest of smiles as she pushed at the narrow door beyond and felt it move
beneath her handтАФacknowledgment of a thing working as it should, rather
than any real satisfaction, for what lay within the tiny cell was a source both of
hope and of dread.
I'm here, Father, she whispered, though she would not look at him until she
had closed the door behind her. She had not been alone with him since she
and Joram brought him from Saint Mary's, two days before.
She crossed herself as she turned, still wrenched anew to see him laid out
thus, the blue-clad body shrouded from head to toe with a veil of white samite.
Her hands shook as she lifted the part of the veil covering his own dear face and
carefully folded it back. She did not cry, though. She had no tears left for
crying.
Camber. Camber Kyriell MacRorie. Father Camber. Father.
Lovingly Evaine recited his true names in her mind as she sank to her knees
beside his body, the fingertips of folded hands pressed hard against her lips to
stop their trembling.
Oh, Father, do you know what they've done? They called you Alister Cullen,
and bishop, for these last twelve years тАФand Saint Camber, for more than a
decade. Now there are those who want to ruin both good names. They 're calling