"Patricia A. McKillip - In the Forests of Serre" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

back of his hand. тАЬWho?тАЭ he asked wanly, mystified.
тАЬThe woman you will marry.тАЭ
Ronan stared at him. He and his father were much alike in their height and
strong build, though the king, massively boned like an ox, stood nearly a head
taller. Ronan had also inherited his coppery hair. The king let his grow in a
foxтАЩs pelt over his mouth and jaws. He had lost one eye and one front tooth in
battle long ago. The scar seaming his face from his brow had pulled his upper
lip open in a perpetual snarl. But it was the puckered, empty skin where his eye
should have been that was more chilling. It seemed, Ronan had decided long
ago, as though he had a hidden eye there, that could see into secrets, thoughts,
invisible worlds. His visible eye was a deep, fuming black. He had been born
on a battlefield, tales said, and had spent his life there, in anticipation when not
in deed. In the last few years he had been attempting sorcery to make himself
and his kingdom even stronger. Occasionally, to strengthen his sonтАЩs defenses
or to let Ronan know he was displeased, the king would conjure an explosion
out of the air and fling it at Ronan. This time the explosion was silent, and
Ronan, dazed, thought he must have swallowed it. He felt the shock of it finally
all through his body, as something jagged and drenched with color burst where
his heart had been.
тАЬMarry.тАЭ He was shaking suddenly with rage, with pain, with grief. тАЬI canтАЩt
marry.тАЭ
тАЬYou will marry.тАЭ His fatherтАЩs powerful voice had a deep, feral resonance;
it drove the words into Ronan like an ax into wood. тАЬIn four days. The youngest
daughter of the King of Dacia has been travelling toward you through much of
the summerтАФтАЭ
тАЬI will not marry!тАЭ The force of the shout tearing out of Ronan startled him;
he did not recognize his own voice. But the king only matched it with a shout of
his own.
тАЬHow dare you?тАЭ He was suddenly too close to Ronan, dangerously close,
turning the puckered eye socket toward his son; it seemed to search mercilessly
into his most private thoughts. Ronan stood still, too furious even to blink. The
king did not touch him, but his voice roared over Ronan like wind or water,
held him in the grip of some elemental storm. тАЬHow dare you pretend to fight
battles for me while you try to kill yourself? Your life is mine. How dare you
even dream of stealing it from me? I made you; you belong to me and to Serre.тАЭ
He moved abruptly again, crossing the room to fling the window wide. Ronan
had chosen the chamber, in a tower flanking one of the foremost corners of the
outer wall, after his wife and child had died. It overlooked the exact place
where water as clear and silent as blown glass fell off earth into air and roared
down a thousand feet to the ground below. Ronan had cast himself over the falls
countless times in thought. His fatherтАЩs words seemed to bellow at him out of
the surging water. тАЬI will call up your drowned ghost and curse it every hour if
you leave me with no one to inherit my kingdom when I am dead. The princess
from Dacia will be here in three days; you will marry in four. The negotiations
were completed, the documents signed and sealed even before you began your
journey home from the south. Her name is Sidonie. Love her or hate her, you
will give me heirs for Serre. Dacia is tiny, nothing. It would be lost within the
forests of Serre. But it is wealthy, and its kings have been renowned for their
sorcery. Your children will inherit the vastness of Serre and the powers of
Dacia. My kingdom will be invincible. тАЭ He reached out, in another swift,