"Michael A. Stackpole - Dragon Crown Saga 1 - The Dark Glory War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stackpole Michael A)

had been done both as a play on our name and the fact that Lord Norrington and his
father before him had often used my father to hunt enemies the way another might
loose a hawk on a varmint. Orphan notches had been cut by each eye and the brown
leather had two green ribbons stitched into the portion covering his fore-head. Those
marked awards for bravery, one from Lord Nor-rington and the other from the hand of
the Oriosan queen.
A hank of blond and silver hair hung down over the maskтАЩs forehead and bisected the
ribbons. My father refused to wear a cowl, though entitled to do so, preferring to let
others see his full head of hair. Through the maskтАЩs narrowed eyeslits I could see his
brown eyes, perhaps the hint of a tear glistening in an orphan notch. He never cried
from pain, my father, physical pain, anyway. But other hurts, or lifeтАЩs joys, could tickle a
tear from his eyes.
Though he did not stand as tall as I, he was still a big man and broader through the
chest and shoulders than I was. Growing up, heтАЩd seemed bigger, and yet even as I grew
into my adult size, I always thought of him as bigger than me. Though he was entering
the twilight of his life, my father still possessed the strength of his youth and served as
Lord Nor-ringtonтАЩs Peaceward in Valsina.
He raised his hands slowly, bearing between them the sim-ple strip of white leather I
would wear for the next month. тАЬArise, Tarrant Hawkins. At an end are the carefree days
of your youth. Upon this mask, and many like it, will be written the story of your life as a
man.тАЭ
I threw back my blanket, and with only the crackle of the straw mattress and the
groan of old floorboards to break the silence, I stood before my father. I plucked a piece
of straw from the sleeve of my nightshirt, then ran fingers back through my black hair
and snagged another piece. They fell to the floor as my hands returned to my sides.
IтАЩd waited for this day forever, it seemed. The full moon closest to mid-summer
marked the day weтАЩd get our moon-masks. Everyone my age knew the full moon would
fall exactly on mid-summer, which meant we would be blessed and spe-cial. Great things
would be expected from us, and I hoped I would prove worthy of such an auspicious
omen. Ever since IтАЩd learned that the full moon would fall on mid-summer in my year, I
had worked to prepare for this day and the rest of my life beyond it.
The problem was, however, that preparing for the un-known was not a simple task. I
knew, in general, what would happen during my Moon Month. While IтАЩd been barred
from the festivities surrounding similar awards to my brothers and sisters, the results of
their Moon Months were not hard to see. Noni, my eldest sister, had emerged betrothed
from her month, while my older brothers had won positions in the Frontier Lancers and
the Oriosan Scouts respectively. It seemed to me to be pretty clear that during their
month they had been the subjects of negotiations or recruitment that set them on a path
for the rest of their lives.
Reaching up, my father pressed the leather mask against my face, then raised my left
hand to hold it in place. I turned in compliance with his pressure on my shoulder and felt
him tighten the mask in place. A bit of my hair caught in the knot
and pulled, but I knew that had not been an accident. The hair and the mask are
equally now part of me. I am the mask and it is me.
тАЬTurn around, boy. Let me look at you.тАЭ I turned back to face him and saw a proud
smile broaden the lower half of his face. тАЬYou already wear the mask well, Tarrant.тАЭ
тАЬThank you, Father.тАЭ
He waved me back toward my bed. тАЬSit for a moment, IтАЩve got something to tell you.тАЭ
He lowered his voice and glanced back at the door, then crouched at my knees. тАЬYouтАЩre
my last child to get a mask, but none have been so ready for it. In your training youтАЩve