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

from his son. And Calida had been too ill to find out what was
happening. She had only the view from her window, and even that
didn't belong to her. It belonged to Richius Vantran, wherever he
was now.

"Don't be frightened," Calida told her son gently. "The Protectorate
can do nothing to you if you tell them the truth. And the Black City,
Alazrian . . . You've never seen anything like it. It's breathtaking."

Alazrian sat down on the bedside waiting for his mother to regale
him with a tale. She had only been to the Naren capital once, for
the coronation of Richius Vantran, but it had left an indelible
impression on her. Calida's mind, soaked with painkillers, skipped
back over her memories, picking out pretty pieces.

"It's so tall," she sighed. "And the emperor's palace looks like a
mountain. There's so many people that sometimes you can't even
move in the streets, but you can buy anything you want. Take
money with you, Alazrian. Buy yourself some nice things." Then
Calida shook her head ruefully. "Oh, I wish the cathedral was still
there for you to see. It was so beautiful."

In fact, it had been his mother's favorite part of Nar City, and she
had wept when she'd heard of its destruction. Now the memory
almost made her cry again.

"I will bring money with me," Alazrian said. "And I'll think of you
when I'm walking the avenues."

"Yes," she agreed. "You go to Nar City." She was so excited
suddenly that she tried to sit up. "There's a library there, with
scholars. They can help you find out about yourself. There are all
kinds of texts there, about everything. Some about Lucel-Lor, I'm
sure." Her voice became a whisper. "And Jakiras."

Alazrian was shocked that she'd spoken the name, and quickly
swiveled his head toward the door to make sure no one had heard.
Only once before had she mentioned the name of his father, and
only then when they were far from the castle, away from prying
ears.

"Mother, hush. The medicines are making you tired. No more talk."

"Listen to me," his mother insisted. "Don't be afraid of this trip,
Alazrian. Use it. Find out about yourself and your father. Find out
who you are."

"Mother, please . . ."

"I didn't know, you see," she said sadly. Again she reached out for