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

"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 nothing about the happenings in Aramoor.
All he knew was what he heard whispered in the castleЧthat Leth
was still trying to put down the Aramoorian rebels. He was using
ungodly tactics, but that was no surprise. And why it should bother
the emperor was a mystery. But there had been strange things
happening in Aramoor lately. Alazrian had been too concerned
about his mother to take much notice, but Leth was away from the
castle often these days, and messengers from King Tassis Gayle
were frequent. Whatever was happening, it had gotten his father in
trouble, and Alazrian was glad for it. He was glad that the Saints of
the Sword were still hassling the "governor." Jahl Rob might be a
priest, but he had a general's craftiness, and his Aramoorian rebels
were proving a gigantic thorn in Leth's side.

Good , thought Alazrian as he retreated across the hall.

The sudden sound of a door opening pulled Alazrian back to
reality. He turned to see his grandfather, Tassis Gayle, backing out
of his mother's bedroom. The king was stooped with weariness
and was whispering something to the unseen woman in the room,
something gentle and fatherly. His cloak of wolf fur dragged along
the floor, limp as the look on his face. He was an old man now,
ancient really, but he had the classic Gayle strength about him,