"Mercedes Lackey - Brightly Burning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

relatives that were too hideous to display on a daily basis but no one dared get rid of.
Lan opened the attic door and stepped softly in; it was very dark, and he took a moment to let
his eyes adjust to the gloom. At last, he had come to a place where the air was comfortably cool, and the
sweat quickly dried on his forehead and the back of his neck. The scent of strong soap mixed with herbs
still lingered in the air, and the gable windows glowed with the light from the party lanterns in the rear and
the streetlamp in the front. The sound of the party was a dull drone up here, but the hired musicians in the
garden were actually easier to hear than theyтАЩd been in the drawing room.
Avoiding the dim bulk of the stored furnishings, Lan reached the nearest window without mishap.
Once he opened the window and flung himself down on a pile of featherbeds and comforters, it was
rather pleasant up in the attic. Or, at least, it wasnтАЩt as bad as it was downstairs.
He could hide out here for as long as it took for the party to end. Although once the noise began
to ebb, he knew heтАЩd better sneak back downstairs again, and pretend heтАЩd been there all night.
I wish I could hide out here forever.
He closed his eyes and listened to the music. It wasnтАЩt what he would have chosen himself, of
course; it was rather old-fashioned and played in a manner that suggested the musicians themselves were
well aware that they were only there to provide a kind of pleasant background to conversation.
Innocuous, that was the best word for it. Lan didnтАЩt much care for innocuous music, but he wasnтАЩt the
one paying the minstrelsтАЩ fee.
As his father so often repeated, the one who paid the musician had the right to call the tune.
However, that old saw was repeated with a sidelong, meaningful glance at his middle son.
LanтАЩs stomach knotted up again. As if I would ever forget. . . .

*

NO one noticed his defection, or he would have heard about it over breakfast. He kept quiet as
Sam bolted his food and headed off to his work with Master Iresh, and as his younger sibs chattered
excitedly about the important people whoтАЩd taken notice of them. Lavan muttered something about the
Guildmaster in response to a direct question, but let Macy and Feodor take center stage. They chattered
with animation about all the important people who had spoken with them, and Nelda nodded
approvingly.
LanтАЩs food was as tasteless as bark and loam. He ate without speaking and left the table almost
as quickly as Sam had, retreating to a window seat just off the lesser sitting room where he hoped he
would be sufficiently out of the way to be ignored or forgotten. In a few moments after he had settled in,
the door to the street opened and closed-that would be Feo, going to join their father. MacyтАЩs footsteps
faded off in the direction of the workroom, where she would toil diligently and happily on embroidery or
lacemaking for the rest of the morning. Though she was only fourteen, her work was good enough that
she won praise from everyone who saw it.
Now if Mother is just thinking about them and not about me as she gets ready to leave. . . .
No such luck. He heard his motherтАЩs, footsteps, but didnтАЩt turn to look at her, hoping she still
might ignore him. тАЬLan?тАЭ she said, and when he didnтАЩt respond to her call, she repeated тАЬLan?тАЭ in a
sharper tone that warned him not to pretend he hadnтАЩt heard.
Lavan looked away from the window toward his mother, a dull apprehension making him clench
his jaw-not that heтАЩd been really looking outside. There wasnтАЩt that much to look at; just the tiny little
kitchen garden of their town house, surrounded by a high, stuccoed wall to separate their minuscule yard
from the neighborтАЩs equally minuscule yard. But it was better than staring out the window in his room,
which opened out to a charming view of the blank wall of the neighborтАЩs town house. And anyway, the
servants would be in his room cleaning for another candlemark. He couldnтАЩt take refuge up there until
theyтАЩd gone because theyтАЩd just chase him out again with their dusting and sweeping.
тАЬShouldnтАЩt you be doing something?тАЭ LavanтАЩs mother asked, her brows knitted with irritation.
Her frown deepened when he shrugged, unable to think of an acceptable answer.