"05 - A Pride of Princes (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberson Jennifer)

broke off a moment, considering his words; continued in
quiet, abiding contentment, "Чand then / shall rule
through their empty bodies in the name of Asar-Suti."

Lillith smiled, nodded, sketched an idle rune in the air
between them that pulsed with purple godfire. It spun,
whirled, twisted; tied itself in knots, was gone. "Of course.
It is to be expected; we have laid our plans." She paused.
'Wow will you come up?"

"Up," he echoed. "Aye. In a moment- There is some-
thing I must do."

And in the eerie lurid light, Strahan the Ihlini knelt in
deep obeisance to the god of the netherworld.

One

The sun hung low in the west, painting the city rose-red,
ocher-gold, russet-brown. Sunlight, trapped and multi-
plied by mullioned glass, made mirrors of countless win-
dows. Mujhara was ablaze with gilded glory.

The one-eyed man stood alone upon the curtain wall
surrounding the massive palace of Homana-Mujhar. Spill-
ing in all directions from the battlements was the royal
city, home of kings and queens; home of the Mujhars of
Homana. Home to countless others of lesser birth as
well; he could not even begin to estimate Mujhara's
population. He knew only that the number had increased
one hundredfold, perhaps one thousandfold, over the
past two weeks. The festival was even larger than his
brother had predicted.

"Everyone will come, lan had said, from everywhere,
even the other realms. Scoff if you like, Nialf, but it
is past time the Homanans paid homage to their Mujhar.
More than past time they showed their gratitude for twenty
years of peaceful rule."

Twenty years. It seemed longer than that. And then,
at times, it seemed only days since he had assumed the
Lion Throne from his Cheysuli father, Donal, who had
given himself over to the death-ritual on the plague-bora
deaths of his lir. With Taj and Lorn gone, there had been
nothing left for Donal, save madness. And no Cheysuli
warrior willingly gave himself over to madness. Not when
there was a choice. Not when there was the death-ritual,
which was surely more merciful than madness.