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

war with the humans. She had had the audacity to lead a group of elven females in a
shrill, hysterical protest against the conflict with Ergoth. It had been a sickening display,
worthy more of humans than of elves. Yet the cleric had enjoyed a surprisingly large
amount of support from the onlooking citizens of Silvanesti.
Sithas had promptly ordered Miritelisina back to prison, and his guard had disrupted
the gathering with crisp efficiency. Several females had been wounded, one fatally. At
the same time, one of the heavily laden river craft had overturned, drowning several
newly recruited elves. All in all, these were bad omens.
At least, the Speaker realized, the outbreak of war had driven the last humans from
the city. The pathetic refugees of the troubles on the plainsтАУmany with elven spousesтАУhad
marched back to their homelands. Those who could fight had joined the Wildrunners, the
army of Silvanost, centered around the members of the House Protectorate. The others
had taken shelter in the great fortress of Sithelbec. Ironic, thought Sithas, that humans
married to elves should be sheltered in an elven fortress, safe against the onslaught of
human armies!
Still, in every other way, the city that Sithas loved seemed to be slipping further and
further from his control.
His gaze lingered to the west, rising to the horizon, and he wished he could see
beyond. Kith-Kanan was there somewhere under this same star-studded sky. His twin
brother might even be looking eastward at this moment; at least, Sithas wanted to believe
that he felt some contact.
For a moment, Sithas found himself wishing that his father still lived. How he
missed Sithel's wisdom, his steady counsel and firm guidance! Had his father ever known
these doubts, these insecurities? The idea seemed impossible to the son. Sithel had been a
pillar of strength and conviction. He would not have wavered in his pursuit of this war in
the protection of the elven nation against outside corruption.
The purity of the elven race was a gift of the gods, with its longevity and its serene
majesty. Now that purity was threatenedтАУby human blood, to be sure, but also by ideas of
intermingling, trade, artisanship, and social tolerance.
The nation faced a very crucial time indeed. In the west, he knew, elves and humans
had begun to intermarry with disturbing frequency, giving birth to a whole bastard race of
half-elves.
By all the gods, it was an abomination, an affront to the heavens themselves! Sithas
felt his face flush, and his hands clenched. If he had worn a sword, he would have seized
it then, so powerfully did the urge to fight come over him. The elves must prevailтАУthey
would prevail!
Again he felt his distance from the conflict, and it loomed as a yawning chasm of
frustration before him. As yet they had received no word of battle, although he knew that
nearly a month earlier, the great invasion had begun. His brother had reported three great
human columns, all moving purposefully into the plainslands. Sithas wanted to go and
fight himself, to lend his strength to winning the war, and it was all he could do to hold
himself back. Inevitably his sense of reason prevailed.
At times, the war seemed so far away, so unreachable. Yet, other times, he found it
beside him, here in Silvanost, in his palace, in his thoughts ... in his very bedroom.
His bedroom. Sithas gave a rueful smile and shook his head in wonder. He thought
of Hermathya, how months earlier his feelings for her had approached loathing.
Yet with the coming of war, a change had come over his wife as well. Now she
supported him as never before, standing beside him every day against the complaints and
pettiness of his people ... and lying beside him every night as well.
He heard, or perhaps he felt, the soft rustle of silk, and then she was beside him. He