"Julian May - Trillium 3 - Sky Trillium" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

of his own terrified cry rang in his ears. He checked the clock on the bedside
stand, discovered that it was still too early, and fell back onto his pillow uttering
childish curses.

The nightmare was so stupid! He had killed no one with magic. His family was
alive and well and suspected nothing. The sorcerer was dead, but that was his
own fault. Everyone knew that.

"I will retrieve my treasure in spite of the rains," he said to himself, falling back
onto his pillow. "I will take it with me to Derorguila and continue practicing its
use. And one day, I will be as powerful as he was."

At last the little clock chimed two. Prince Tolivar sighed, sat up on the edge of
the bed, and began to tug on his stoutest pair of boots. His frail body was weary
after a day spent gathering and packing the things he would take with him to
Labornok. The servants had dealt with his clothes, but packing everything else
had been his responsibility. Six large brass-bound wooden chests now stood
ready in his darkened sitting room next door, and four of them were filled mostly
with his precious books. There was also a smaller strongbox of iron with a stout
lock, which the Prince hoped to fill and tuck in among the other things.

If Ralabun would only hurry!

The clock now showed a quarter past the designated hour. Tolivar put on his
raincloak; he wore both a short-sword and a hunting dagger. Opening the
casement window and peering out, he saw that the rain had let up, although
lightning still flickered in the west. The river was not visible from this side of the
Citadel, but he knew it would be high and swift.


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Trillium 03 - Sky Trillium by Julian May (v1.0) (html).html


At last there came a soft scratching at the door. Tolivar dashed across the room
and admitted a sturdy old Nyssomu male, dressed in dark brown rainproof
leathers handsomely decorated with silver stitching. Ralabun, the retired Keeper
of the Royal Stables, was Tolivar's crony and confidant. His usual aspect was
one of sleepy amiability; but tonight his broad, wrinkled face was ashen with
anxiety and his prominent yellow eyes seemed almost ready to pop out of his
skull.

"I am ready, Hiddenheart. But I beg you to tell me why we must go out in such
weather."

"It is necessary," the Prince replied curtly. He had long since given up urging
Ralabun to bestow a more auspicious mire-name upon him.

"It is a foul night to be abroad in the Mazy Mire," the old one protested. "Surely
this mysterious errand of yours can wait until morning."