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

He closed his eyes, nursing his bitterness in silence, wishing that he could will himself back home
to Alderscroft.

*
 HE didnтАЩt realize that heтАЩd dozed off until he started awake to find his mother shaking him and
the curtains pulled wide open again to admit the midday sun.
тАЬWake up!тАЭ she said crossly, the dreaded frown lines making deep creases between her brows.
Her face, a perfect oval framed by the braids she wore wrapped around her head, was the very portrait
of parental annoyance. Her hazel eyes narrowed with suppressed anger. тАЬWhen I told you to find
something to do, I didnтАЩt mean to go take a nap! Here-тАЭ
She thrust the same forgotten roll of tools at him that the Guildmaster had forced on him last
night, and Lan suppressed a groan. Was he never to be rid of the blasted thing?
тАЬDid you hide this in the cushions last night?тАЭ she accused.
He blinked and began to dissemble; she cut him off before heтАЩd gotten more than a word or two
out. тАЬDonтАЩt bother to lie,тАЭ she said acidly. тАЬYou do it very badly. You did. ItтАЩs just a good thing that the
Guildmaster thought Feodor was older than you-he offered to take Feo as his тАШprentice, so Feo can use
these, and he wonтАЩt be offended to see that youтАЩve given Feo your present.тАЭ
Relief must have shown on his face, for his motherтАЩs lips tightened. тАЬTidy yourself and get
downstairs. Your father and I have something to tell you.тАЭ
She clattered out of his room, and LanтАЩs relief evaporated, replaced by dread.
Oh, gods, now what? Was he going to be тАШprenticed to someone after all? His heart plummeted,
and with cold hands he straightened his tunic and swept his hair off his forehead.
Feeling as if he were going to his doom, he plodded down the stairs and into the lesser sitting
room where he could hear his mother and father talking.
They both looked up as he entered; his mother still had that tightly-closed expression around her
mouth, as if her lips were the opening to a miserтАЩs purse, but his father looked less grim. Archer had a
milder temper to go with his gray-threaded, tidy chestnut hair, but today there was a sense of sadness
around his calm, brown eyes, and his square jaw was set in a way that suggested it would not do Lan any
good to argue with the fate planned for him.
Lan took deep breaths, but still felt starved for air.
тАЬSir,тАЭ he said, suppressing the feeling that he ought to bob like a servant, but keeping his eyes
down. тАЬMaтАЩam. You wanted me?тАЭ
тАЬSit down, Lavan.тАЭ That was his father; Lan took a seat on the nearest chair, a hard, awkward
thing that was all angles and a little too tall for his feet to lie flat on the floor. That was the signal for his
father to rise and tower over him. LanтАЩs chest tightened, and he truly felt as if he couldnтАЩt breathe. тАЬI was
hoping for all of my sons to follow in my trade.тАЭ
тАЬYes, sir,тАЭ Lan replied in a subdued tone of voice, going alternately cold and hot, a feeling of
nausea in the pit of his stomach. IтАЩm going to be sick, I know it. . . .
He looked up through his lashes as his father looked down at him and sighed.
тАЬWell, having two of my offspring take to the trade is more than any man should expect, I
suppose.тАЭ Archer shook his head. тАЬLan, have you any idea what you propose to do with yourself with
the rest of your life?тАЭ
His feeling of sickness ebbed, but he started to sweat. тАЬAh-тАЭ DonтАЩt say that you want to go
into the Guard! he cautioned himself before he blurted out the truth. That was not what Archer wanted
to hear. тАЬI, ah-тАЭ
тАЬThatтАЩs what I thought.тАЭ Archer looked back at his wife, who grimaced. тАЬYou know, in my day,
youтАЩd have found yourself packed off to whatever master I chose to send you to. You wouldnтАЩt have a
choice; youтАЩd do what I told you to do, as I did what my father wished for me.тАЭ
тАЬYes, sir.тАЭ A tiny spark of hope rose in him. Did his father have some other plan? Whatever it
was, could it be better than being sent off to some miserable dyer or fuller? Unless-he-oh no-not a