"Paul Thompson - [Elven Nations Trilogy 2] - The Kinslaye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Paul B)

"Alas," sighed the Theiwar dwarf. "They have not been so open-minded as my own
clan. The Hylar, in particular, seem bound by ancient treaties and affections. Our influence
is great, but thus far insufficient to break these ties."
The dwarf lowered his voice conspiratorially. "However, your lordliness, we have an
agent in placeтАУa TheiwarтАУand should be able to ensure that little excess of comfort is
delivered to your enemies."
"Splendid," agreed the emperor. If he was curious as to the precise identity of the
Theiwar agent, he gave no sign. "A vigorous season of warfare should bring them to heel.
I hope to drive them from the plains before winter. The elven cowards will be ready to
sign a treaty by spring!"
The emperor's eyes suddenly glowed with dull fire, the calculated sense of power
and brutality that had allowed him to send thousands of men to their deaths in a dozen of
his empire's wars. They flamed brighter at the thought of the arrogance of the long-lived
elves and their accursed stubbornness. His voice became a growl.
"But if they continue to resist, we will not be content to wage war on the plains.
Then you will march on the elven capital itself. If it is necessary to prove our might, we
will reduce Silvanost itself to ashes."
The generals bowed to their ruler, determined to do his bidding. Two of them felt
fearтАУfear of his power and his whim. Beads of sweat collected upon their foreheads, dripping
unnoticed down cheeks and beards.
General Giarna's brow, however, remained quite dry.
PART1: A TASTE OFKILLING
1
Late Winter, Year of the Raven,
2214 (PC)
The forest vanished into the distance on all sides, comfortingly huge, eternal, and
unchanging. That expanse was the true heart, the most enduring symbol, of the elven nation
of Silvanesti. The towering pines, with lush green needles so dark they were almost
black, dominated, but glades of oak and maple, aspen, and birch flourished in many isolated
pockets, giving the forest a diverse and ever-changing character.
Only from a truly exalted vantageтАУsuch as from the Tower of the Stars, the central
feature of SilvanostтАУcould the view be fully appreciated. This was where Sithas, Speaker
of the Stars and ruler of Silvanesti, came to meditate and contemplate.
The sky loomed vast and distant overhead, a dome of black filled with glittering
pinpoints of light. Krynn's moons had not yet risen, and this made the pristine beauty of
the stars more brilliant, more commanding.
For a long time, Sithas stood at the lip of the tower's parapet. He found comfort in
the stars and in the deep and eternal woods beyond this island, beyond this city. Sithas
sensed that the forest was the true symbol of his people's supremacy. Like the great
trunks of forest giants, the ancient, centuries-living elves stood above the scurrying,
scampering lesser creatures of the world.
Finally the Speaker of the Stars lowered his eyes to look upon that city, and
immediately the sense of peace and splendor he had known dissipated. Instead, his mind
focused on Silvanost, the ancient elven capital, the city that held his palace and his
throne.
Faint traces of a drunken chant rose through the night air to disturb his ears. The
song thrummed in the guttural basso of dwarves, as if to mock his concern and
consternation.
Dwarves! They are everywhere in Silvanost! Everywhere, in the city of elves, he
thought grimly.