"John Marco - Tyrants and Kings 3 - Saints of the Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marco John)

Alazrian waited. Finally the governor spoke.
"I've been called to the Black City," he said. His voice had a confessional
tone, like a whisper. "Emperor Biagio and his inquisitor wish to speak with
me."
"Yes, Father," said Alazrian. He had heard the gossip among the staff.
Leth was to face the Protectorate.
"Politics," said Leth. "That's what it is, you see."
"Yes," agreed Alazrian. "I see."
"Do you? I doubt that. I doubt you understand anything but needlepoint.
You have your mother's sensibilities for these things, boy. Your head's full of
air."
Alazrian swallowed the insult. His relationship with Leth had only grown
worse since they had come to Aramoor. The pressures of governing had
embittered Leth.
"Biagio lays traps for me," Leth said. "He thinks I'm stupid, eh? Bloody
fop." He balled his hand into a fist and rubbed the knuckles. "Well, he's got
something up his sleeve. He wants you to come as well."
"Me? To the Black City?"
"We leave the day after tomorrow."
"Why me?"
"You're old enough to make the trip." Alazrian had just turned sixteen. For
his birthday, Leth had given him a dagger, something to make him "look more
like a man." Alazrian never carried it.
"I don't understand," said Alazrian. "What does the emperor want with
me?"
"How the hell should I know? But that's what the summons says, and we've
got to obey. So don't spend too much time weeping over your mother. We'll
need our wits about us for the trip, and I won't share the voyage with a child
that needs a wet-nurse."
"But . . ."
"But what?" growled Leth, whirling on Alazrian.
Alazrian felt his throat constrict. "What about Mother?" he managed.
"What about her? She's dead. We can't help her."
"She's not dead yet."
"Oh, Mother, Mother!" taunted Leth. "Please, Mother, don't die." He
scoffed and closed his eyes. "Pull yourself together, boy. We've got bigger
concerns."
"Don't say that!"
Leth's hand shot out and delivered Alazrian a stinging slap. "What was
that?" he barked. "Did you raise your voice to me?"
Alazrian was silent. He knew his words would only invite another slap, so he
merely looked at the man he was forced to call father, trying to convey his
hatred with his eyes.
Elrad Leth read his face easily and returned the revulsion. "My God, if I had
a real son I could deal with these things. Tassis had Blackwood, and I've got
you. Go on, get out of my sight. But be ready to leave early, day after
tomorrow. Pack for a long voyage. And don't make me wait for you."
Alazrian had a thousand questions, but didn't dare ask them. He could
guess why Emperor Biagio wanted to see his father, but he couldn't fathom
the faintest reason why the Protectorate wanted to question him. He knew