"L. E. Modesitt - Corean Chronicles 4 - Alector's Choice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

report from the Seventh Myrmidon Company at Dulka.

At the sound of boots on marble, he looked up once more, this time
toward the open study door that allowed him a view, such as it was, of the
main corridor of Myrmidon headquarters. Submarshal Tyanylt walked
quickly past Dainyl's open door toward the one remaining study on the
corridor--that of Marshal Shastylt.

Dainyl could sense... something, and Tyanylt looked determined--or
worried. That was unusual for any alector, and especially for Tyanylt, who
never showed emotion other than a calm pleasantness--even when Dainyl
used Talent-senses, although Dainyl had always been careful only to use
those senses to receive.

Not that there was anything that Dainyl could have done to alleviate
Tyanylt's worries. The submarshal was his direct superior and had always
maintained a certain reserve, more so than the usual for an alector.
Tyanylt was well respected, and well connected to both the Duarch of
Elcien and the Duarch of Ludar--and to the high alectors who surrounded
both Duarchs.

The colonel forced his attention back to the report, noting that Majer
Faerylt had cited the loss of a skylance and the receipt of a replacement
from Lyterna. Dainyl paused, then reread the section. How could a
Myrmidon have lost a skylance without losing both rider and pteridon?
That had not happened in centuries. He jotted down a note to ask for a
fuller explanation.

As he turned to the section summarizing Seventh Company's flights for
the last two-month quint, the slightest flash of purpleness--something
sensed by his Talent, not seen by his eyes--flared before Dainyl.

Almost without thought, he was on his feet and out of his study, nearly
running toward the marshal's closed doorway. He came to a halt outside
the door, but he could sense nothing through the heavy wood. Usually, he
could sense something.

"Sir?" he called. "Are you all right?"

There was no answer.

"Sir?"

With still no answer, Dainyl opened the study door, his hand ready to
grab his holstered sidearm as he stepped into the chamber, closing the
door behind him. Marshal Shastylt lay half-sprawled on the floor beside
his wide desk. Several papers lay strewn on the green marble floor, as if
the marshal's hand had knocked them from the desk as he had fallen.

Once inside the study, Dainyl could sense the marshal's lifeforce--weak,