"John Maddox Roberts - Stormlands 02- The Black Shield" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts John Maddox)

"He is not presently at war with any of the neighbor kingdoms, Mistress." She gathered assurance, feeling
herself to be on safer ground.

"Bring me some of that wine, girl," the queen ordered. "Pour some for yourself." Dunyaz rose and went to
a table where a pitcher stood amid goblets of fine glass. She poured two and returned to the couch,
handing one to the queen and resuming her place.

Larissa sipped the wine idly as she stroked the girl's glossy black hair. It was best, she knew, to keep
slaves off balance, alternating threat with affection, familiarity with distance. This high-strung, overbred
creature would require special care, but she would be worth it. Larissa knew how valuable she could be.
The wine was delicious. Wine had been rare in the Islands, and only men had been allowed to drink it.

"The lack of open warfare means little, Dunyaz, you know that as well as I. All kings are rivals by nature.
Who are Pashir's rivals?"
Dunyaz sketched for her what she knew of her world: To the south of Neva lay Chiwa, westernmost of
the southern kingdoms. These lands were hot, colorful and exotic by Nevan standards, with jungle-clad
hills aswarm with

strange birds and reptiles. Its king was called the Caudo, as much high priest as ruler. They were said to
practice human sacrifice to their gods. The kingdoms to the east of Chiwa were not well known, but
were rumored to be rich and fierce.

Northwest of Neva was Omia, a disorganized kingdom of warring nobles. The current king was fairly
competent and had the nobles in hand. Otherwise Neva would have annexed Omia by now. To the
Southeast was a great wasteland under no definite ruler. It was mostly arid desert with a large area
named, ominously, the Poisoned Lands. Only misshapen animals and humans dwelled there. Also in this
wasteland was the Canyon, a fantastic place where the people were said to practice powerful sorcery.

Beyond Omia, on the other side of the great mountain chain, lay an area of grassy plain, the home of
primitive peoples, nomads who lived their lives mounted on cabos and migrating from one pasture to
another. Only in recent years had Nevan trade caravans penetrated to this area.

All of this sounded promising to Larissa. There was little chance that the mainland kingdoms would unite
against the Islanders, whom they would perceive as a mere nuisance until it was too late. The noble
classes of these lands were self-absorbed and decadent, unable to use the wealth and manpower of their
kingdoms effectively. She thought that the land of mounted people sounded interesting. Since arriving on
the mainland, she had seen a few cabo-riders, a

sight unknown in the Islands. She asked if Dun-yaz knew anything more of the grasslands.

"In the last few years, King Pashir has received letters from a man who claims to have united some of the
tribes there into a sort of kingdom, although I do not understand how a primitive land without cities can
be a kingdom."

"Who is this man?"

"He calls himself Hael, Mistress."

Larissa's scalp and spine prickled, and she almost spilled wine. Hael! Then she relaxed. It was a simple