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

"In Elven lands, except in time of war, or dire need, to question another directly is considered to be
unmannerly. I do not say that this is good or bad, merely that this is our custom, and perhaps we
are fonder of our customs than we ought to be," Jermayan observed, as if speaking to Valdien.
"Perhaps it is a failing in us. Perhaps it is merely that when one lives as long as an Elf, custom
becomes habit, and habit is often so difficult to break that one gives over the attempt."

Kellen heard Vestakia's muffled snort of nervous laughter. "I don't think I'm going to be asking
anyone any questions anytime soon, Jermayan. I'll count myself lucky if they don't fill me full of
arrows on sight."

"That they will not," Jermayan said, his voice filled with grim promise now.

As they rode closer, Kellen could see the yellow pavilion more clearly.

It was rectangular, and quite large - large enough for them to ride right inside, as Kellen suspected
they were meant to. Colored pennants flew from the centerpost and from all four corners - and
whether from the artfulness of their construction, or from a touch of the "small magics" the Elves
still commanded - they did fly, and were not simply sodden rain-soaked rags wrapped around the
gilded tent posts. The tent was trimmed in scarlet, and the tent ropes that held it firm against the
buffeting winds were scarlet as well.

In the grey gloom of the day, the lamps inside the walls of yellow silk made it glow like the lanterns
the Elves hung outside their homes at dusk, casting shadows of tables and moving bodies against
the fabric.

As they came closer, a flap in the near side of the pavilion began to rise. Kellen saw two Elves in full
armor walk it out and peg it into place with tall gilded poles, so that it formed a sort of canopy
entrance. Now he could see into the pavilion, and see that there was some kind of flooring as well.
Trust the Elves to do everything... thoroughly.

They rode forward, into the tent.

The sudden cessation of the rain drumming on his head felt wonderful. Kellen glanced quickly
around as he kicked his feet free of Shalkan's stirrups and swung his leg over the back of the
saddle. It was awkward not being able to use his hands, but he managed.

Idalia was there, and it looked like all the cream of the nobility had turned out to meet them as
well, all wearing their finest robes and jewels. There were a few Elves wearing armor like
Jermayan's, but even their colors blended into the harmonious whole: nothing clashed, nothing was
out of place.

Both Ashaniel and Andoreniel were present, dressed in what Kellen thought of as full Court robes -
Ashaniel in gold, Andoreniel in bronze - along with several of their counselors, and -

"Kellen!"

He'd barely steadied himself on his feet when a small bundle of energy detached himself from his
nurse's skirts and ran forward, flinging his arms about Kellen's waist.

"You came back! I told them all you'd come back!" Sandalon said defiantly.