"The Eyes Of A God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marco John)

'Oh, but we may have something to toast, I think, King Akeela," said Karis. He filled the goblet to the brim, then sat back. A pensive expression crossed his face.
'My lord?" Akeela probed. "What is it?"
'King Akeela," began Karis, "you have given all of us a great gift. You have brought gold to us and the goodwill of your people, and have given us the river Kryss to use as our own. Most of all you have brought us peace, a thing I had never expected to see in my lifetime."
Akeela shifted, embarrassed by the praise. "Thank you, my lord."
'You are remarkable, King Akeela. For such a young man, you very wise. So different from your father."
'Please, my lordЕ"
. let me say this," Karis interrupted. His face was grave.
lever met your father, not even on the battlefield. But I know i my advisors that he was a brutal warrior and a hater of Х and I think it's extraordinary that a man like that could - such a wise-hearted son. You are remarkable, King Akeela,
THE EYES OE GOD The questions shocked Lukien. Was Akeela actually consider-. tne offer? He kept his hand on Akeela's shoulder, giving it a autionary squeeze. Surprisingly, Akeela shook it off.
'My father is very wise," said Cassandra. "And I don't object to his offer. If you will have me, King Akeela, I'll be your queen."
Akeela grinned. "Very well, then. I will think on it. Thank you, Princess. And thank you for your beautiful dance."
Cassandra curtsied and dismissed herself, disappearing back behind the curtain. Akeela watched her go, admiring her all the way. Once again Lukien put his lips to the young man's ear.
'Steady," he whispered. "She's just a girl."
Akeela shook his head. "Not just a girl, Lukien. Perhaps the girl."
'You've had too much ale," said Lukien. The music had started again, and the servants went back to work, delivering steaming platters of bread and meat. Akeela's eyes lingered on the velvet curtain. Lukien sighed. "Fate above," he muttered. "What have we gotten into?"
If Akeela heard him, he didn't show it.
and I have almost nothing of equal value to match the gifts you have given me."
'I ask for nothing in return, my lord Karis," said Akeela. "Just the chance to rule L№ria in peace."
Karis nodded. "I believe that. I know you want nothing from us but peace. And to seal that peace, I offer you the greatest thing I possess, something that means more to me than anything." He pointed at the waiting Cassandra. "I give you a queen. M* daughter, Cassandra."
Akeela's ubiquitous smile faded. "How's that?" "A wife, King Akeela. To seal the peace between us." Lukien was stunned. Akeela looked at him for an explanation but the knight merely shrugged. Before them, Cassandra wore ' confident smile.
'A wife?" blurted Akeela. "For me?"
'You are surprised, I know," Karis admitted. "But you are! young, and unaware of how we do things in Reec. Peace is made in such ways, my lord." "Yes, butЕ"
'She is the greatest gift I can give you," said Karis. "And if I you accept her, she will please you. She will give you children as I beautiful as herself, and a link to Reec, so that we will never war I again. Isn't that what you want, my lord? Peace?"
Unable to speak, Akeela looked at Cassandra. She was still breathing hard from her dance but met his gaze head-on. Akeela chewed his lower lip, overwhelmed by the offer. Lukien put a hand on his shoulder.
'It is a great gift, my king," he said diplomatically. "But a surprising one. And surely you will need time to think on it." "Yes," agreed Akeela quickly. "Time to think on it, consider i things."
'Of course," said Karis. There was a trace of disappointment in his voice. "Such a union shouldn't be entered lightly, and while you're my guest you can think on it."
'It really is a great gift, King Karis," said Akeela. "Truly, I am humbled. But what does your daughter think of this, I wonder?" He turned toward Cassandra. "Princess Cassandra? Do you agree to your father's proposal?"
I H'sBeith recognized fear easily. It always stared back at her from mirrors.
'All right, breathe now," directed Gwena. She nodded, satisfied with Beith's effort. "Not much longer."
'You keep saying that," gasped Beith. "For god's sake, how much more?"
'Not much more."
'Argh!"
'Be easy, girl," said Gwena. She had a towel in her hand that had once been white but was now stained with blood. The sight of it made Beith queasy and she looked away, back toward the window. The hard rain frightened herЧshe wished it would stop. She wished the baby would come out and stop torturing her, and she wished that her husband were with her, but he was dead. Meri kept squeezing her hand, but Beith felt profoundly alone. She had no one else now that Gilwyn was gone, and she wondered if King Akeela would let her remain in the castle. Her child was being born fatherless, and that was the greatest pain of all.
'Damn it!" she cried.
Old Gwena ignored the outburst. She had been the castle's midwife for years and had heard far worse from her charges, even from the royal ladies she tended. Beith wasn't royal but she could swear like a devil, and as a contraction seized her she let out a string of curses. Her emotions were galloping in all directions. Gilwyn's face came to her every time she closed her eyes. He had been a good man and had died too young, and some were saying his death had sparked Akeela into talking peace with the Reecians. He had been one of Lukien's best. Lukien himself had brought her the terrible news, which had shattered the pregnant Beith and drove her to depression. But Akeela had promised her she could remain in the castle, and Akeela was a good man, wasn't he?
'I don't know," moaned Beith, tossing her head back. She felt -lirious, and didn't care what she said or who heard her.
'Beith, stop now," said Meri. Her friend wiped her face, blot-ung up the perspiration. "You'll be all right. It's all going well, nght Gwena?"
'It's going perfectly," said the old woman. "This child's N, ght fell on Koth with a hammer-blow of rain. Wind from a summer squall shook the panes of glass in the single window of a tiny bedroom. And Beith Toms, in her thirteenth hour of labor, turned her eyes toward the storm outside and began to sob.
'Easy, now," said the midwife, Gwena. The old woman's hands touched Beith's thighs, massaging the aching muscles. Next to her, Beith's friend Meri squeezed her hand, so hard that Beith thought her fingers would crack. But that pain was nothing compared to the agony inside her. Beith choked back her tears and concentrated on Meri's earnest face and the rain pelting hei window.
'Oh, yes," said Gwena. The old woman was peering betweei Beith's legs as if looking at something fascinating. "Not mud longer, girl. Push now!"
'I can't!" groaned Beith.
'Yes, you can. Do it now. Not much more."
Beith shut her eyes and tried to expel her infant, wailing with the effort. For thirteen hours she had been like this, first losing her water, then crying for Meri and Gwena while the contractions overtook her body. Eventually, they had come like the storm, quickly and with unexpected fury. Beith bit down hard as she gave the infant another push. Sweat fell from her face. Meri put a cool cloth to her forehead, wiping away the perspiration. Her friend was smiling, but Beith could tell she was afraid. These sliding out smoother than the devil in velvet trousers. It hurts, I know, but this is nothing. I brought King Akeela into the world, you know, and if there was ever a child that didn't want to come out, it was him. Twenty hours of sheer agonyЕ"
'Gwena!" snapped Meri. "Watch what you're saying!"
For the first time in hours, Beith laughed.
'Don't laugh, breathe!" the midwife commanded. Once again she tucked down to inspect the birth. Beith could see the top of her head bobbing. "Yes, it's good. You're doing well, child. That's it, now. Keep helping it along."
Beith strained to breathe the way Gwena had taught her. She saw a flash of lightning outside the window, then felt the room shake with thunder. Outside, the rain had smothered the moon and stars, so that only torchlight lit the chamber. She could smell her own foulness, the stench of blood and sweat and effort. Every breath was laborious.
'I want a boy," she gasped. "You hear, Gwena?"
The midwife scoffed. "That's not what I do."
'A boy," Beith insisted. "So I can name him after his father."!