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

and he already anticipated that the carving would be ruined. He had a visceral
memory of the blade biting savagely into the wood before both knife and carving
flew off.
When Ilya picked the bit of wood up out of the grass, he saw with a sinking of
spirit that his gloomy expectation was correct. The ear that had taken him so long to
shape had sheared off under his blade, leaving a ragged stump behind.
"Are you contradicting me, little brother?" Pietor's grin turned malicious, and the
ominous tone of his voice warned of a drubbing to come. But at this moment and
place, Ilya wasn't terribly worried about the implied threat.
For one thing, Pietor was alone, and none of his brothers had been able to,
succeed in beating him alone, not for the last year or more. Two or more together,
now, that was a different tale altogether, and Ilya would have to find a way to distract
Pietor long enough so that he would forget the so-called "insult" so that he didn't
manage to gather allies.
Pietor wasn't very bright, and he didn't have a terribly long attention span;
however, it wouldn't take much to distract him. It always took Pietor a while to
organize himself enough to collect a group to beat Ilya up, and during that time he
was vulnerable to interference. With any luck, by the time Pietor got back to the
palace to rouse one or more of the others, he would have forgotten why he had gone
looking for them in the first place.
"What you wish, brother." Ilya shrugged and tossed the ruined carving out into
the forest, sheathing his knife so casually that not even Pietor could take it as an
insult. A dun mare grazing nearby looked up at the motion as the bit of ruined wood
sailed past her nose, snorted, and went back to single-minded munching. "You'll
make up your own mind about what I said no matter what I tell you. So it doesn't
matter what I say now, does it?"
Pietor's white-blond brows furrowed together and his vacant blue eyes grew even
vaguer as he tried to puzzle through that. Finally he gave up. "You think you're
clever, smarter than all of us, don't you?" he challenged. "Too clever by half!"
Enough of this nonsense. I'm not in the mood. "I don't have to think anything, I
only have to listen to you and I know what the answer is," Ilya replied, narrowing his
own eyes and staring right at his brother with a challenge of his own. "What do you
want, anyway? Why did you come sneaking out here, following me around like a
thief or a gypsy? Do you covet my knife, or were you hoping I had somehow found
a treasure you could steal?"
The abrupt change of subject and the unexpected challenge left Pietor floundering
for a moment. "IтАФahтАФ" The young man backed up a step as he attempted to
handle two thoughts at the same time and failed utterly. He stared into Ilya's face,
and Ilya had to choke down the urge to say anything more. Pietor was thoroughly
confused and briefly intimidated. Best leave well enough alone.
"Never mind." Ilya stalked off, startling two more horses into a brief canter before
they settled again. He left Pietor standing dumbfounded in his wake, mouth hanging
open stupidly.
Not that it's an unusual expression for dear Pietor, he thought savagely. A whole
afternoon's work ruined in a heartbeat by that oaf! Ilya'd hoped to have the carving
finished by supper as a surprise for Mother Galina; he was glad now that he hadn't
promised her anything, as he often did when he planned to carve her something. The
worst of it is, I think he knew exactly what he was doing. He might not be bright,
but he's cunning. He probably saw me out in the forest-pasture and realized how
caught up, I was in what I was doing; saw his chance to sneak up and play me