"Mercedes Lackey - Last Herald Mage 3 - Magic's Price" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

He pushed the door to his spare quarters open; it was full of light and air, but not much else. Just
a bed, a low, square table, a few floor-pillows, a wardrobe, and a couch.
On the couch was his visitor-and despite his worries, Vanyel felt his mouth stretching in a real
smile.
"Medren!" he exclaimed, as the lanky, brown-haired young Bard-trainee rose and reached
across the table to embrace him. "Lord and Lady, nephew, I think you get taller every week! I'm sorry
about not being able to get to your recital, but - "
Medren shook long hair out of his warm brown eyes, and smiled. "Tripes, it isn't my first, and it
isn't going to be my last. That's not what I came after you for, anyway."
"No?" Vanyel settled himself down in his favorite chair, and raised an inquiring eyebrow. "What
brings you, then?"
Medren resumed his seat, leaning forward over the table, his eyes locking with Van's. "Something
a hell of a lot more important than a stupid recital. Van, I think have something that can help the King."

Two

Vanyel closed the door behind him, balanced with one hand still on the door handle, and reached
down to pull one of his boots off. "What exactly do you mean?" he asked, examining it, and deciding that
it was going to survive the soaking after all. "Forgive me if I sound skeptical, Medren, but I've heard that
particular phrase dozens of times in the past few years, and in the end nothing anyone tried made any
difference. I'm sure you mean well -"
Medren perched in a chair beside the window, with not only his expression but his entire body
betraying how tense he was. The curtains fluttered in a sudden gust of breeze, wrapping themselves over
his arm. He pushed them away with an impatient grimace. "That's why I waited so long, I really thought
about this for a while before I decided to talk to you," Medren told him earnestly. "You've had every
Healer, herbalist, and so-called 'physician' in the Kingdom in and out of here - I wasn't going to come to
you unless it wasn't just me who was sure we had something."
Vanyel pulled off his other boot, and regarded his nephew dubiously. He'd never known Medren
to go overboard - but there had been so many times when a new treatment had sounded promising and
had achieved nothing. . . . Medren's judgment was unlikely to be better than anyone else's.
Still - there was always the chance. There was little doubt that in Medren Van was dealing with a
rational adult now, not an overly impressionable boy. Medren had grown taller in the years since Vanyel
had sent him off to Bardic Collegium, and even though he hadn't put on any bulk at all he was obviously
at full growth. He actually looked like a pared-down, thin version of his father, Vanyel's brother Mekeal.
Except for one small detail - he had his mother Melenna's sweet, doelike eyes.
He must be just about ready to finish Journeyman's status at least, Vanyel realized with a
start. He might even be due for Full Bard rank. Ye holy stars, he must be nearly twenty!
The curtains flapped, and Medren pushed them away again. "You know I wouldn't bring you
anything trivial or untried. I know better, and anyway, I've got my ranking to think of. I'm one
master-work away from Full Bard," he finished, confirming Vanyel's startled assessment. He combed his
fingers restlessly through his long hair. "I can't start my career by getting a reputation for chasing wild
geese. I've had Breda check this for me, and she's confirmed it. It seems my roommate, Stefen, has a
Wild Talent. He can sing pain away."
Van had made his way to the side of the bed by the end of this speech; he sat down on it rather
abruptly, and stared at his young cousin. "He can - what?"
"He sings pain away." Medren shrugged, and the cloth of his red-brown tunic strained over his
shoulders. "We don't know how, we only know he can. Found it out when I had that foul case of
marsh-fever and a head like an overripe pumpkin."
Vanyel grimaced in sympathy; he'd had a dose of that fever himself, and knew the miserable head
and bone aches it brought with it.