"Mercedes Lackey - Obsidian 02 - To Light A Candle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

the works of the Elves managed to combine beauty and practicality with flawless ease.

She was not surprised to see the door open before she reached it.

"I See you, Idalia Wildmage," the Elven doorkeeper said politely.

"I See you, Sakathirin," Idalia answered with equal politeness. Elvenkind was both an ancient and
a long-lived race, and except under extraordinary circumstances, its members were unfailingly
courteous and unhurried. Part of the courtesy was the assumption that a person might not wish to
be noticed; the greeting I See you was meant to convey acknowledgment of one's presence, with
the implicit right being that one did not have to respond if one wished to be left alone. "I have
come to share news with the Lady Ashaniel, if she would See me as well."

"The Lady Ashaniel awaits you with joy," Sakathirin said gravely. "Be welcome at our hearth." He
stepped back to allow Idalia to enter.

The rain pattering down on the skylight echoed through the tall entry-hall, its music a counterpoint
to the splashing of the fountain that once more bubbled and sang beneath it. Idalia smiled, seeing
that reflecting pool was once again filled with fish, their living forms mirroring the mosaic they swam
above, that of fish swimming in a river. The Elves delighted in this form of shadowplay, combining
living things with their copies so expertly that it was often hard for mere humans to tell where
Nature ended and Elven artistry began.
By the time Sakathirin had disposed of her cloak and hat, one of Ashaniel's ladies-in-waiting had
appeared to conduct Idalia to the Queen's day-room.

In Armethalieh, such a room would have been called a "solar," but that was hardly an appropriate
word for this room today. The walls were made of glass - hundreds of tiny panes, all held together
in a bronze latticework - and the room seemed to hang in space, surrounded by a lacework made
of light and air.

And water.

Raindrops starred the palm-sized windows, and streaks of rain ran down the outside of the glass
like a thousand miniature rivers. The effect might have been chilly, despite the warmth of the lamps
and braziers that filled the room, save for the fact that the room's colors were so warm. The ceiling
had been canopied in heavy velvet - not pink, which would only have been garish - but a deep
warm taupe, rich as fur. The pillows and carpets picked up those colors and added more: deep
violets, ember-orange, a dark clear blue shot through with threads of silver... autumn colors, and
those of winter, concentrated and intensified until they kindled the room.

The Queen herself was dressed in shades of amber, every hue from clear pale candle-flame yellow
to the deep ruddy glow of sunset's heart. Her hair was caught back in a net of gold and fire opals,
and she wore a collar of the same stones about her throat.

"Idalia," she said, smiling and setting aside her writing desk as she indicated a place beside her on
the low couch upon which she sat. "Come and sit beside me, and we will talk. Your brother and
Jermayan will not reach the edge of the city for some time yet, and there is much to do in
preparation. They seem well enough, so Imriban said," she added, answering the question Idalia
could not, in politeness, ask. "Though Imriban said that the Wildmage rides as one lately injured."