"Marco,.John.-.Tyrants.And.Kings.3.-.Saints.Of.The.Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marco John)

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Prologue

A lazrian's mother had once said that the sound of rain was heaven
singing. Tonight, heaven was screaming.

Five days of rain had turned the roads of Aramoor to rivers and
made the grounds boggy around the Vantran house. It was spring,
when this part of the Empire endured countless thunderstorms. It
was the time of year that Alazrian's mother liked best. Soon, when
the rains were gone, the gardens would bloom with rosebuds, but
she would not be around to see them. By the time the first butterfly
took wing, she would be long gone.

A distant blade of lightning flashed outside the castle window.
Alazrian watched it dispassionately. The torch on the wall bounced
shadows across the hall. The rain beyond the misty glass was
coming down sideways. He was glad his grandfather wasn't still on
the road. In the morning the storm would have passed; his
grandfather could make it back to Talistan then. He wouldn't be
staying long. Just long enough to see his daughter die. Alazrian
pondered what was going on behind the nearby door. Was his
grandfather weeping? he wondered. Was his mother? She was so
close to death now, probably too weak for tears. And she never
really had use for tears, anywayЧher life and husband had made
her hard.

Lady Calida had been a good mother, and the only thing of beauty
that Alazrian knew. She had the heart of a lion and the soul of a
poet, and it was a mystery to Alazrian how she had come from the
same loins that produced her brother, Blackwood Gayle. Her father
was sometimes a beast and almost always a madman. And though
Tassis Gayle loved his daughter dearly, he had stood by while she
married a man without love in his heart. Her life had been a terrible
thing, but she had never admitted that to Alazrian. She had taken
joy and refuge in him. She had worn him like a magic cloak to ward
off evil.

A crash of thunder echoed through the hall. Alazrian jumped at the