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

"Yes, sir."

"For the moment, you will remain as director of operations and
maintenance, as before." Shastylt smiled, an expression not so much of
triumph as one that showed the relief of someone who had successfully
passed a great trial. "That will be all, Colonel."

Dainyl nodded respectfully.

"If you would summon the duty officer on your way out?"
 "Yes, sir." Dainyl half bowed once more, then turned and departed,
closing the door most carefully behind him, as he headed back down the
corridor to the desk of the day's duty officer--Undercaptain Ghanyr. His
steps were firm on the green marble floor.

2

Mykel ambled over to the edge of the grape arbor that he could just
touch without stepping out from under the roof of the warm-weather
dining porch. The golden red grapes were perfect, ripe, but still firm,
glowing in the orange-tinged light before sunset. He eased one from the
rear of a bunch, shaded enough so that it was cooler, and taken from
where its absence wouldn't be noticed until his parents harvested that
section of the vine.

"I saw that." His father laughed, stepping through the rear archway
with a bronze tray holding six heavy goblets. "A captain in the mounted
rifles, nearly twenty-six years old, and you're still snitching grapes."

Mykel turned and grinned. "Just one. They're best right off the vine."
He popped the grape in his mouth--slightly tart, but still sweet, and cool.
He was careful not to let any of the juice escape. The pale blue dress tunic
was one of the few he had that wasn't a uniform, and he'd inherited it
from his grandfather two years earlier.

"Don't let your mother catch you. She wants those as ripe as possible
for the holiday wine." Olent set the tray down in the center of the long
table, then straightened.

"Has he been pulling grapes off the vine again?" asked

Viencet, following his father through the archway, carrying a large
pitcher of wine drawn from the cask in the cellar.

"Some things don't change," replied Olent.

Viencet, who was barely seventeen, shook his head. His flowing blond
hair--darker than Mykel's--momentarily flipped away from his head.
Mykel didn't much care for his youngest brother's hairstyle, but had never
said anything. Once Viencet joined a guild, or became a Cadmian, the long