"Christopher Stasheff - Warlocks Heirs 01 - M'Lady Witch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

"What? And have her forget that I am her sovereignto-be? Pooh, Hal! It would be beneath my station!"


Hal started to say something more, then bit his tongue. Alain saw. "Come, come! You must speak your mind with me, Hal-for if my own friends do
not, who will? What had you in mind to say?"


"Only that it is a perfect day for so joyous an occasion, Highness," Sir Devon said slowly.


"It is that." Alain looked around him with a broad grin. Yes, it was a perfect day to become engaged, to kiss a lucky maiden for the first time. The
thought was somewhat heady-he had always more or less planned to marry Cordelia, and the notion of actually doing so made his heart sing, though
it also roused a nervous fluttering in his stomach. However, he could ignore that-as he could overlook the fact that she wasn't a princess.


He also overlooked the possibility of sending a page ahead, to announce his coming.


Gregory looked up; pale light was beginning to lend color to the leafy roof overhead. He folded up his notes with a satisfied sigh; it had been a good
evening's watching, and he had learned quite a bit about the habits of the great horned owl. He rose to his feet with a wince as cramped muscles
protested, and noted that he must not be doing enough yoga exercises. If only eight hours of immobility for a night's watch made him stiff, how
would he endure the round-the-clock spell of meditation that he knew was coming? His mind was working itself up to that-when it brimmed over
with new knowledge, he would have to go into a trance to sort it all out. He didn't dare do that when Mother and Father were home, of course-but
they travelled a good deal these days, so he was free to keep night-long vigils in the forest if he chose, or twenty-four-hour sessions of meditation.
He knew it would worry his sister Cordelia, but she would only hover over him, not interrupt.


And, of course, there was the problem of trying to contact his eldest brother Magnus, halfway across the galaxy.


He felt the need of that, too, from time to time, and it was very demanding of both body and mind. Heaven knew the lad wrote seldom enough!


His body was making its needs felt in other ways, too. Gregory felt a pang of hunger, and decided, with regret, that he would just have to devote
half an hour to taking on some food. He made his way out of the forest and off toward the nearby village, where there was an inn that would be
serving breakfast.


As he came into the inn, the serving maid looked up, then gave him a very, very warm smile; her lips seemed to glisten, her eyes to grow larger.
Gregory gave her an automatic smile in return, instantly concerned-was the girl beset with a fever? But no, on closer look, he could see no other
symptoms-the swellings in her bodice looked natural enough.


He sat at a table, asked her for ale and porridge, then instantly forgot her as he noticed the motion of dust motes in a sun-ray that hinted at a pattern
...


Something tugged at his attention; irritated, he glanced at the wench's retreating back. He noticed the exaggerated swaying of her hips, and