"Paul Thompson - [Elven Nations Trilogy 1] - Firstborn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Paul B)

for support, but Sithas said nothing. He wasn't as sure of Kith-Kanan's
return as his father was.
*****
The griffon glided in soundlessly, its mismatched feet touching down
on the palace roof with only a faint clatter. Kith-Kanan slid off
Arcuballis's back. He stroked his mount's neck and whispered
encouragement in its ear.
"Be good now. Stay." Obediently the griffon folded its legs and lay
down.
Kith-Kanan stole silently along the roof. The vast black shadow of the
tower fell over him and buried the stairwell in darkness. In his dark quilted
tunic and heavy leggings, the prince was well hidden in the shadows. He
avoided the stairs for, even at this late hour, there might be servants
stirring about in the lower corridors. He did not want to be seen.
Kith-Kanan flattened himself against the base of the tower. Above his
head, narrow windows shone with the soft yellow light of oil lanterns. He
uncoiled a thin, silk rope from around his waist. Hanging from his belt
was an iron hook. He tied the rope to the eye of the hook, stepped out from
the tower wall, and began to whirl the hook in an ever-widening circle.
Then, with practiced ease, he let it fly. The hook sailed up to the third
level of windows and caught on the jutting stonework beneath them. After
giving the rope an experimental tug, Kith-Kanan started climbing up the
wall, hand over hand, his feet braced against the thick stone of the tower.
The third level of windowsтАУactually the sixth floor above ground
levelтАУwas where his private room was located. Once he'd gained the
narrow ledge where his hook had wedged, Kith-Kanan stood with his back
flat against the wall, pausing to catch his breath. Around him, the city of
Silvanost slept. The white temple towers, the palaces of the nobles, the
monumental crystal tomb of Silvanos on its hill overlooking the city all
stood out in the light of Krynn's two visible moons. The lighted windows
were like jewels, yellow topaz and white diamonds.
Kith-Kanan forced the window of his room open with the blade of his
dagger. He stepped down from the sill onto his bed. The chill moonlight
made his room seem pale and unfamiliar. Like all the rooms on this floor
of the tower, Kith-Kanan's was wedge-shaped, like a slice of pie. All the
miscellaneous treasures of his boyhood were in this room: hunting
trophies, a collection of shiny but worthless stones, scrolls describing the
heroic deeds of Silvanos and Balif. All to be left behind, perhaps never to
be seen or handled again.
He went first to the oaken wardrobe, standing by an inside wall. From
under his breastplate he pulled a limp cloth sack, which he'd just bought
from a fisher on the river. It smelled rather strongly of fish, but he had no
time to be delicate. From the wardrobe he took only a few thingsтАУa padded
leather tunic, a pair of heavy horse-riding boots, and his warmest set of
leggings. Next he went to the chest at the foot of his bed.
With no concern for neatness, he stuffed spare clothing into the sack.
Then, at the bottom of the chest, he found something he hadn't wanted to
find. Wrapped in a scrap of linen was the starjewel he'd bought for
Hermathya. Once exposed, it glittered in the dim light.
Slowly he picked it up. His first reaction was to grind the delicate