"Mercedes Lackey & Larry Dixon - Mage Wars 03 - The Silver Gryphon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

Her father Amberdrake was notorious for sleeping lateтАФto be fair, it was usually because he'd been
up late the night before, workingтАФand she hoped by rising with the first light, she might avoid him at
breakfast.
But no. When she carried her two small packs out to leave beside the door, she saw that there were
candles burning in the rest of the house. Amberdrake was already up.
In fact, as soon as she turned toward the rear of the dwelling, she saw him; dressed, alert, and in the
little nook at the back of the main room that they used for meals, waiting for her. But so was her mother,
which might temper things a bit.
She sighed, while her face was still in shadow and he couldn't see her expression. Breakfast with
Amberdrake was always a bit strained at the best of times, and this was not going to be "the best" of
times.
He keeps remembering when he was the chief kestra'chern and it was his habit to find out
about his fellows when they all drifted in for breakfast. He keeps trying to do the same thing with
me.
"Good morning, Father," she said, feeling terribly awkward, as she approached the tiny table.
"You're not usually up so early."
 She wondered if Amberdrake's smile was strained; he was too good at keeping a serene mask for
her to tell. However, it was obvious that he had taken special pains with his appearance. Silk tunic and
trews, raw-silk coat, some of his Haighlei gift-jewelry, and Zhaneel's feather in his hair. You'd
think he was having an audience with Shalaman.
She regarded him objectively for a moment. He was still a strikingly handsome man. Despite the
white streaks in his hair, her father scarcely looked his age in the low mage-light above the table, and the
warm browns and ambers of his clothing disguised in part the fact that there were dark circles under his
eyes.
Caused by worrying, no doubt.
"I didn't want to miss saying good-bye to you, Silverblade," he said, his voice quite calm and
controlled. "If I slept until a decent hour, I knew that I would. You dawn risers are enough to make a
normal person's eyes cross."
She knew that her answering laugh was a bit strained, but there was no help for it. "And you night
prowlers are enough to make people like me scream when we think of all the perfectly good daylight you
waste sleeping!" She slid into the seat opposite him, and helped herself to fresh bread and preserves. He
reached across the table and added thinly-sliced cold meat to the plate quite firmly. She didn't really want
anything that substantial first thing in the morning, but she knew better than to say so. Why start an
argument? That would be a poor way to leave her parents.
What can it hurt to nibble a piece to please him? It can't, of course. Not that long ago, she
would have protested; now she knew there was no point in doing so. She'd only hurt his feelings. He was
only trying to help.
And after today he won't be able to be so meddlingly helpful for six whole months! I should be
pitying the people, gryphon and human and hertasi alike, who will wind up as my surrogates for
his concern.
She ate one slice of the meat, which was dry and tasted like a mouthful of salty old leather, and went
back to her bread. Amberdrake pushed a cup of hot tea toward her, then made a move as if he was
about to serve her a bowl of hot porridge from the pot waiting beside him.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed. Not for anything would she eat porridge, not even for the sake of pleasing
her father! "None of that! Not when I'm flying! I do not want to decorate the landscape underneath me!"
Amberdrake flushed faintly and pulled his hand back. "Sorry. I forgot that you didn't inherit my
impervious stomach."
"No, she inherited my questionable one. Stop badgering the child, dear." Winterhart emerged at last
from the rear of the dwelling, putting the last touches on her hair. Blade admired the way she moved with
a twinge of envy. Winterhart managed to combine a subtle sensuality with absolute confidence and a