"Andre Norton & Lackey, Mercedes - Elvenbane 1 -The Elvenbane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

that Serina knew well, a look that told her his mood was a cruel one, and she
hoped he would appease it on the person of his overseer.

"No, my lord," the elven overseer replied, his voice quavering. There was
nothing in his appearance--other than his clothing--to tell a human of the
vast social gulf between himself and Dyran. His hair, tied back in a neat tail,
was just as long and silky, just as pale a gold. His eyes were just as green, his
stature equal to Dyran's. Both had the sharply pointed ear-tips of their race,
and both appeared to be fighting men in the prime of life. The overseer wore
riding leathers; Dyran fine velvet. But there were differences between them
not visible to the human senses; differences that made Dyran master. "There
have been too many injuries, my lord, to--"

"Due to your neglect," Dyran reminded him silkily. Serina saw that his
goblet of wine had warmed, and replaced it with a chilled one. He ignored
her, all his attention bent on his victim.

The overseer blanched. "But my lord, I told you that the forge chains
needed--"

"Due to your neglect," Dyran repeated, and settled back into his ornately
carved wooden chair, steepling his long, slender hands before his chin. "I'm
afraid I'm going to have to teach you a lesson about caring for your tools,
Goris. I believe you have a daughter?"

"Yes, my lord," the overseer whispered. He glanced up briefly, and Serina
noted that he had the helpless, hopeless look of a creature in a trap. "But she
is my only heir--"

Dyran dismissed the girl with a gesture. "Wed her to Dorion. He's been
pestering me for a bride, and his quota has been exceeded. We'll see if his
line proves more competent than yours."

The overseer's head snapped up, emerald eyes wide with shock. "But, my
lord!" he protested. "Dorion is--"

He stopped himself, and swallowed suddenly, as his pupils contracted with
fear."

Lord Dyran leaned forward in his seat. "Yes?" he said, with venomous
mildness. "You were about to say--what?" He raised one eyebrow, a gesture
Serina knew well. It meant he was poised to strike, if angered.

The overseer was frozen with terror. "Nothing, my lord," he whispered
weakly.

"You were about to say, 'Dorion is a pervert,' I believe," Dyran told him, his
voice smooth and calm, his expression serene. "You were about to take
exception to the fact that Dorion prefers human females to tedious young
elven maids. As do I. As you finally remembered."