"Jennifer Roberson - CotC 4 - The House of Homana" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberson Jennifer)not now; no warrior in all the clans had ever reached his
eighteenth birthday without receiving his lir. Nor, for that matter, his seventeenth. And so I tried to content myself with my rank and titleтАФno small things, to the Homanan way of thinkingтАФand the knowledge that for all I lacked a fir, I was still Cheysuli. No one could deny the Old Blood ran in my veins. No one. Not even the shar tahl^ who spoke of rituals and traditions very care- fully indeed when he spoke of them to me, becauseтАФfor all 1 lacked a lirтАФ1 still claimed the proper line of de- scent. And that line would put me on roe Lion Throne of Homana the day my rather died. That, at least, was something my brother could not lay claim toтАФnot that he would wish to. Being bastard-bom of my father's Cheysuli meijhaтАФlight woman, in HomananтАФ attached no stigma to him in the clans. Cheysuli do not Slace such importance on legitimacy; in the clans, the irth of another Cheysuli is all that counts, but as far as the Homanans were concerned, Donal's eldest son was tolerated among the Homanan aristocracy only because he was the son of the Mujhar. And so lan, as much as myself, knew what it was to of the discordant harmony in an otherwise pleasing mel- ody. It only manifested itself for a different reason- "NiallтАФ?" lan rose with the habitual grace I tried to emulate and could not; I am too tall, too heavy, I lack the total ease of movement born in so many Cheysuli. "What is it?" I thought I had learned to mask my face, even to lan. It served no purpose to tell him what torture it was to see my brother with his fir, or my father with his. Most of the 8 file:///D|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/D...rack%20Of%20The%20White%20Wolf%20(v%20UC).txt (5 of 315) [2/2/2004 2:41:48 AM] file:///D|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/Desktop/Roberson,%...CLES%2004%20-%20Track%20Of%20The%20White%20Wolf%20(v%20UC).txt time it remained a dull ache, and bearable, as a sore tooth is bearable so long as it does not turn rotten in the jaw. But occasionally the tooth throbs, sending pain of unbearable intensity through my mind; my mask had slipped, and lan bad seen the face I wore behind it. |
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