"Sherwood Smith - Crown and Court Duet - 01 - Crown Duel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Sherwood)

"Promise me," he said, struggling up on one elbow. His breath wheezed in and out, and his skin was
blotchy with the effort, but his voice was strong. "Promise me!... You will... fight Galdran ... protect
Tlanth... and the Covenant..." He fell back, fought for breath.

"Papa," I quavered.

Beside me, Bran reached for the frail old hand. "Papa, please. Rest. Be easyтАФ"

"Promise!" He gripped both our hands, pulling us toward him. "You must... promise me ..."

"I promise," I said quickly.

"And I," Branaric said. "Now, Papa, you must try to rest."

"It's too late for..." His eyes closed, and his fingers loosened from mine, and wandered without purpose
over the bedclothes. "Khesot... You and Khesot, Branaric ... as soon as our hirelings get here from
Denlieff, then you attack. Surprise ... will carry you a long way."

Bran nodded. "Just as you say, Papa."

"And trust Azmus," Papa said, trembling with the effort it took to speak clearly. "He was your mother's
liegeman... IfтАФif he had been with her on that cursed trip, she would be with us now... Listen to him. I
didn't, once, and ..." Grief wracked his face, grief and pain.

"We understand, Papa," Bran said quickly. I couldn't talkтАФmy throat hurt too much.

Our father gave a long sigh of relief and fell back on his pillows. "You're a good boy, Branaric. No, a
man now... a man these four years. And Meliara, almost grown..." He turned his head to look at me.
Horror seized my wits when I saw the sheen of tears in his eyes. "Meliara, so like your mother. I
wronged you, my daughter. Please forgive me for neglecting you..."

Neglect? I thought of the years that Bran had reluctantly gone up to the tower to wrestle with musty old
learning-books while I ran free with Oria and the other village children and, in summers, roamed the high
mountains to dance with the Hill Folk under the full moon. My father had always seemed a distant,
preoccupied man, and after Mother's death he had become even more distant. It was her I'd missed, and
still missed.

Now I sucked in my breath, trying hard not to cry. "But I was happy, Papa," I said. "It wasn't neglect, it
was freedom."

My father smiled. The tears shone in the furrows beside his eyes. "Free..." I don't know if he was
repeating what I said or beginning a new thought; whichever, it was destined to remain unfinished, at least
in this world.

He fell silent, his hands reaching again. This time when we each gripped his fingers, there was no
response, and after a moment his breath slowed, then stopped.

Branaric stood helplessly, looking down at the still figure in the bed. Feeling numbтАФunrealтАФI took
Papa's thin hands, which were still warm, and laid them gently across his breast. Then I turned to my
brother. "There's nothing we can do now, except gather the villagers..." And prepare the funeral fires. I