"Modesitt, L E - The Hammer of Darkness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

years at slave labor in the hope that a black mark will be
lifted from my name."
"May be DaЧ, the Duke, I mean, could take care of that."
Martin refrains from trying to read her thoughts.
"I doubt that even the Duke could remove the Prince Re-
gent's Query. And why would he? For a penniless scholar
who's attracted to the very daughter he's planning to marry
into the Royal Family?"
"Martin Martel! That's totally uncalled for." How did he
know? Never said ... paracomm?
"Realistic," he says in a clipped tone, trying to allay her
suspicions. "Duke of Kirsten holds the most powerful House
on Karnak next to the Regent. What else?"
So obvious, so obvious even to poor sweet Martin.
He cannot keep the wince from his face.
"Martin ... what, how do you know?" He reads thoughts,
I know he does. How long? What does he really know?
"Nothing that the gossip tabs haven't already spread. Noth-
ing every student in the Commannex hasn't speculated."
Sweat, dampness, runs down Martin's back, with the per-
ception that the guard is drawing his stunner, edging the
setting beyond the stun range toward lethal.
Martin concentrates on the energy flows in the stunner,
puzzling how to divert them, to distract Kryn from her iron-
cold purpose, to just leave without raising any more fear and
suspicion.
Aware of his sleeve wiping perspiration off his forehead,
strange itself in the courtyard chill, he stammers.
"Nothing ... nothing more to be said, Lady Kryn, time to
depart ... fulfill my contract to the Brotherhood ... and then
if you hear of a newsie named Martel on a far planet ...
think about corel."
No ... no! Treason? Corel. Romance and flowers to the
last. But a Duchess is as a Duchess does.
Her hands touch the stud on her wide belt, the stud that
screams "emergency" to the guard. The tight-faced man in
blue aims the stunner.
Zinnnng! The strum of the weapon fills the courtyard.
"I wish -you hadn't, Kryn. Wish you hadn't," mumbles
Martin, knowing that he has bent the focus of the beam
around him, knowing that such is impossible.
The guard knows it also, looks stupidly down at the stun-
ner, then raises it again, only to find that the blackclad stu-
dent has disappeared, and that tears stream down the cheeks
of the Lady Kryn Kirsten.
Along the courtyard wall, behind the black marble bench,
lit by the slanting ray of the afternoon sun, the dust devil
restacks the pile of cone needles.
IV
Aurora