"Mercedes Lackey - Firebird" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

ordered the cooks to leave pots of unsalted porridge in the attic for the domovoi and
pannikins of sweet cream in the meadow for the polevoi.
Ilya sighed as he thought of his grandfather, who he knew of only from the stories
of others, and it occurred to him, as he stealthily opened the door to the tiny room
he called his own, that Ivan's steadfast refusal to believe in anything supernatural,
Christian or pagan, might have been because of Vasily's unshakable belief. Ivan
often pointed out that no matter how much porridge was left in the attic, the usual
household mishaps continued to occurтАФand that the cattle strayed from the
meadow when the fence came down, not when someone forgot to put out the cream.
Vasily had spent a great deal of the family treasure on propitiating the spirits, and
Ivan loudly pointed out that no great good had ever come of thatтАФ nor had any
great harm ever come from his insistence on ignoring the spirits.
It was Ivan the unbeliever who had improved the family fortune, who had raised
himself to the rank of tsar, who had increased the familial landholdings by manyfold.
Granted, he was just one minor tsar among hundreds beneath the Great Tsar of Rus,
but stillтАФthat was better than a boyar. It was more than Vasily had done.
If you think that life is all about getting more land, more cattle, more powerтАФ/
don't know; what's all that without happiness? Or, at least, enjoyment?
Ilya closed the door and opened the shutters and moonlight poured into his room;
it wasn't a very big room, but it was larger than a servant's, and it was furnished
befitting a son of the tsar, if a despised one. He had a chestтАФcarved by his own
hands, but of good woodтАФin which his clothing was carefully folded. His bedstead
held a goose-feather bed, one of Ivan's cast-offs, covered with coarse linen sheets,
mended blankets, and the furs of two bears and a wolf he had killed himself. On a
table beside his bed was a lamp, unlit, and a pitcher of water. By the brilliant
moonlight he made certain that none of his brothers had sabotaged his bed. He had
not once omitted to check, not since he was sixтАФnot even when he was drunk,
injured, or otherwise operating at a disadvantage. His brothers seldom resorted to
such childish torments anymore, but he had learned the value of taking precautions.
While he was at it, and while the moonlight was still pouring in the open window,
he checked the rest of the room. He found nothing, but it never hurt to be certain.
There'd been vipers left in his room before, and less dangerous but equally
unpleasant "surprises."
The moon crept down below the treetops, sending his room into darkness as he
finished his checks. Only when the room was completely dark and he was certain
that his sleep would be undisturbed did he throw the bolt on the door, close and
lock the shutters, and strip himself down to the skin for bed. He was already clean,
and he yawned hugely, quite ready for sleep. He'd bathed in the river with Ludmilla,
both before and after his amorous exertionsтАФnot only was he fastidious, but he'd
often found a little water-play to be very erotic, provided the girl wasn't afraid of the
water.
It would be too cold for that before very much longer. There had been a bite to
the water that had been pleasant, given the heated condition of their bodies, but it
was a chill which presaged the ice of winter.
And soon comes the end to all dalliance under the willow, Ah, well.
He envied Sasha the "possession" of the wool-room; the rolled fleeces would be
far more pleasant for tumbling a maiden than the prickly straw of the cow-barn.
It could be worse. I could be freezing my privates off in a woodshed or
something, which makes it difficult to remain a the proper mood. I could be
picking up fleas in a serf's hut, I could be taking my chances in the bathhouse. I