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

but steady--and that he was breathing. Submarshal Tyanylt was not
breathing. As Dainyl watched, his lifeforce and aura finished fading, then
vanished. Within moments, all that remained on the smooth green marble
floor of the study were Tyanylt's uniform, sidearm, and boots.

Dainyl swallowed. While he'd seen more than a few Cad-mians, and
other landers and indigens, die over the years, he had only seen a handful
of Myrmidons die, their bodies vanishing into dust nearly instantly--in
accidents and once after a death sentence for gross negligence--but he'd
never seen a high-ranking Myrmidon or alector die. That just didn't
happen, and certainly not in the Myrmidon marshal's study.

The marshal groaned, faintly, and Dainyl immediately knelt. He could
sense no broken bones or severe internal injuries. So he gently turned the
marshal onto his back and waited.

Within several moments, the marshal's lifeforce had purpled into
greater strength, and his breathing was steadier. Shortly, his eyes opened.

Dainyl helped him to his feet. With his shimmering black hair, unaging
alabaster face, and violet eyes, the marshal looked no different from any of
the other most senior alec-tors, save that he was a span or so taller than
Dainyl's two and a half yards. Shastylt's eyes flickered to the clothing and
boots on the floor. His lips tightened slightly, but he said nothing as
Dainyl helped him into the chair.

Dainyl waited while the marshal caught his breath.
 "Has anyone else been in here?" Shastylt finally asked.

"No, sir. I sensed something, and when no one answered, I came in and
closed the door behind me."

The marshal nodded slowly, his deep violet eyes fixing on Dainyl.

Neither alector spoke.

Dainyl waited, holding his Talent shields, not certain how the marshal
might react.

"You do understand, Dainyl?"

"Yes, sir." Dainyl understood all too well. In whatever had transpired
before he entered, Tyanylt had crossed the marshal--and paid the price.

"You have always been cautiously decisive. That is a good
characteristic." He swallowed, then coughed, straightening in the chair.
"You may not know this, but the submar-shal was several decades older
than I."

There was no reason Dainyl would have known. Alectors never showed