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

"Oh, it's to be war, as I told you," she replied offhandedly. "The Board is
going to meet in a few days to decide on the size of the armies and where
they'll meet. After that it will be up to the two of them. I told you they'd
never settle an inheritance dispute with anything less than a war."
"So you did, my lady," Dyran replied, leaning toward her with an odd gleam
in his eye. "And once again, you were correct. Tell me, which of the two of
them do you think likely to be the better commander?"

He's been so--strange--about Lady Alinor. She's challenged him in Council,
and he doesn't like it. But he's been challenged before, and he never acted
like he is with her. It's almost as if he wants her, wants to possess her, and
she keeps rejecting him in ways that only make him more determined to have
her. Serina shivered, and did her best not to show it. Dyran had never been
this obsessive about anything before. She wasn't sure what to do about it--or
even if she dared to try.

Lady Alinor laughed, laughter with a delicate hint of mockery in it. "Ondine,
of course--" she began.

A single, brazen gong-note split the air, silencing the chatter, and causing
every head to turn towards the entrance to the sands. A pair of fighters, one
bearing a mace and shield, the other, the unusual weapon of singlestick,
walked side-by-side into the center of the" arena. The mace-wielder, with
shield colors and helm ribbons in Lord Jertain's indigo-and-white, turned
smartly to the left, to end his march below Jertain's box. The other, with
helm ribbons and armbands in Vossinor's cinnabar-and-brown, turned at the
same moment to the right, to salute Vossinor's box.

Both elven lords acknowledged their fighters with a lifted hand. The gong
sounded again. The two men turned to face each other, and waited with the
patience of automata.

Dyran rose slowly, a vermilion scarf in his hand. Every eye in the area was
now on him; as host to the conflict, it was his privilege to signal the start of
the duel. He smiled graciously, and dropped the square of silk.

It fluttered to the sand, ignored, as the carnage began.

In the end, even a few of the elven spectators excused themselves, and Serina
found herself averting her eyes. She'd had no idea how much damage two
blunt instruments could do.
But Dyran watched on; not eagerly, as Lady Alinor, who sat forward in her
seat, punctuating each blow with little coos of delight--nor with bored
patience, as Sandar. But with casual amusement, a little, pleased smile
playing at the corners of his mouth, and a light in his eyes when he looked at
Alinor that Serina could not read.

And when it was over--as it was, quickly, too quickly for many of the
spectators--when all of the other elven lords had gone, he made his move.