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

tower and numerous tall windows, was like a constellation in the heavens.
Kith-Kanan felt very satisfied as he jauntily ascended the steps by the
main doors.
The guards clacked their spears against their shoulder armor. The one
on Kith-Kanan's right said, "Highness, the speaker bids you go to the Hall
of Balif."
'Well, I'd best not keep the speaker waiting," he replied. The guards
snapped to, and he passed on into the deep, arched opening. Even the
prospect of a tongue-lashing by his father did little to lower Kith-Kanan's
spirits. He still breathed the clean, spicy scent of Hermathya, and he still
gazed into the bottomless blue depths of her eyes.
The Hall of Balif, named for the kender general who had once fought
so well on behalf of the great Silvanos, took up an entire floor of the
central tower. Kith-Kanan swung up the broad stone stairs, clapping
servants on the back and hailing courtiers heartily. Smiles followed in the
elf prince's wake.
Oddly, two guards stood outside the high bronze doors of the Hall of
Balif. The doors were not usually guarded. As Kith-Kanan approached,
one guard rapped on the bronze panel behind him with the butt of his
spear. Silently Kith-Kanan stood by as the two soldiers pushed the heavy
portals apart for him.
The hall was indifferently lit by a rack of candles on the oval feasting
table. The first face Kith-Kanan saw did not belong to his father, Sithel.
"Sithas!"
The tall, white-haired young elf stood up from behind the table.
Kith-Kanan circled the table and embraced his twin brother heartily.
Though they lived in the same city, they saw each other only at intervals.
Sithas spent most of his time in theTempleofMatheri, where the priests
had been educating him since he was a child. Kith-Kanan was frequently
away, flying, riding, hunting. Ninety years they'd lived, and by the standards
of their race they were barely adults. Time and habit had altered the
twins, so much so that they were no longer exact copies of each other.
Sithas, elder by scant minutes, was slim and pale, the consequence of his
scholarly life. His face was lit by large hazel eyes, the eyes of his father
and grandfather. On his white robe he wore a narrow red stripe, a tribute to
Matheri, whose color it was.
Kith-Kanan, because of his outdoor life, had skin almost as brown as
his eyes. The life of a ranger had toughened him, broadened his shoulders
and hardened his muscles.
"I'm in trouble," he said ruefully.
"What have you done this time?" Sithas asked, loosening his grip on
his twin.
"I was out flying on ArcuballisтАУ"
Have you been scaring the farmers again?"
"No, it's not that. I was over the city, so I circled the Tower of the
StarsтАУ"
"Blowing your horn, no doubt."
Kith-Kanan sighed. "Will you let me finish? I went round the tower,
very gently, but who should be there on the high balcony but Fatherl He
saw me and gave me that look."