"Modesitt,.L.E.-.Spellsong.05.-.Shadow.Singer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

5
East of Itzel, Neserea

The two men sit across an inlaid wooden table in a study paneled in time-aged golden oak. Because the day is gray, and near sunset, only the dimmest of light seeps through the ancient mullioned windows, and most of that is blocked by the heavy gold velvet hangings drawn across each casement to block the late winter cold. Even so, the chamber is filled with the golden light that radiates from the almost half a score of six-branched candelabra that surround the table where the two eat.

"This table is almost as exquisite as the one in Jysmar's hold," remarks the younger man, after taking a sip of golden amber wine from a crystal goblet. The darkness of his blue tunic, trimmed in gold, accentuates his piercing blue eyes, fair skin, and jet-black hair.

"Much was lost when you brought his hold down around him, Lord Belmar," replies the man in gray, who at times appears barely older than Belmar, and at other times more than a score of years older than the young Lord of Worlan.

"That was his loss, not mine." Belmar smiles before taking another sip of wine. "Besides, the show of force was necessary. The older lords were beginning to doubt my power." He gestures around the chamber, his hand sweeping past the polished dark oak shelves that hold the scores of leather-bound books, past the Pelaran tapestries hung on the walls between the shelves. "Would we have had such easy entry here otherwise?" He chuckles. "And Lord Girsnah is more than happy to have us served his very best. I could even request his daughter, master jerGlien, and he would offer her willingly." Belmar glances toward jerGlien, as if seeking a reaction. "She is young, tender, and rather attracfive."

The man in gray offers a faint smile of amusement. "I imagine he would, under the circumstances."

"I won't go that far. That sort of foolishness was what undid Rabyn."

"Along with his other failings."

Belmar ignores jerGlien's sardonic tone. "The entire south of Neserea acknowledges me. So does the northeast and the far northwest. Only the river valleys of the Saris and Esaria itself stand opposed."

"That is true."

"Now is the time to strike." The black-haired and blue-eyed lord glances at the older man in nondescript gray. "Do you not think so, master jerGlien?"

"Always . . .somewhere . . . it is time to strike, Lord Belmar. The skill is knowing where and how hard."

"Meaning that you think I am too impatient?' asks Belmar.

"If you can stop the Sorceress of Defalk, then you should do what you feel necessary."

"I defer to your experience, master jerGlien, yet I might ask why you think I am too hasty. For your words suggest other than what they say."

A shrug comes from the man in gray. "We have made certain entreaties to Lord Robero, very quietly. He is not totally unreceptive, but he is far from convinced, it would seem to me. We must convince him... appropriately."

"And how would that be, and why would I care?" "I do not pretend to know Neserea, and Defalk even less, but . . ." JerGlien pauses dramatically. ". . .were I about to rule a land, I would prefer not to have an unnecessary enemy on my borders. Lord Robero is constrained by the presence of the very sorceresses who support him." The Sturinnese smiles. "What man enjoys being constrained by women?"

"You think...?"

"One must strike before, it is expected . . . or where such an attack is not expected, and it cannot hurt if one strikes where a loss may not be regretted totally by the ruler of a neighboring land."

"Striking at the sorceresses of Defalk?"

"You face the least dangerous, for all her experience," offers jerGlien. "The younger one is more dangerous."

"She destroyed an entire fleet, did she not? The younger one? That could not have pleased your Maitre," replies Belmar.

The man in gray laughs. "What she has done has gained her little. She remains in Ranuak, and the snows on the Mittfels and Sudbergs still deepen. She has no allies to speak of and will have to face far more sorcerers than she knows if she would wrest Dumar from us."