"Brian Thomsen - The Nobles 04 - The Mage in the Iron Mask" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thomsen Brian M)

"Yes, your highness," the ambassador acknowl-edged, trying not to show that he had just
soiled himself out of sheer terror and fear.
The Tharchioness, born Dmitra Flas and now also known as the First Princess of Thay,
was leg-endary in her cruelty, and the execution of Vitriole was only the most recent of her
acts of intolerance toward what she considered to be traitorous incom-petence. Anything
that hindered Szass Tam's ulti-mate plans was considered to be treasonous within the
tharch of Eltabbar, and treason was always pun-ishable by death.
The Tharchioness gave the ambassador a quick once-over. His Mulan lineage was
apparent. Rumors of non-Mulan spies in Thay were rampant, and pre-cautions had to be
taken. His hairless pate was adorned by the long-since faded tattoos of what once must
have been magically-empowered images of phoenixes in flight. Now they were just inked
draw-ings on a wrinkled and pale skull.
Great, she thought to herself, another spineless political appointee who has long since
passed his age of usefulness. Why don't they ever send me someone who is young and
vibrant rather than another impo-tent husk of a boot licker?
The Tharchioness looked him in the eyes, dead on.
He dropped to the floor, cringing in an absurd amalgam of abasement and terror.
 The Tharchioness rolled her eyes, her contempt turning to cruel amusement, and said,
"Well, it doesn't look like you are long for this job, and you know what that means?"
"Yes, your Tharchioness," he managed to get out through trembling lips and chattering
teeth.
"Find my husband, corpse maggot, and do it fast," she ordered, revelling in the sheer
terror her latest ambassador felt toward her. "I haven't laid eyes on him since I arrived
yesterday."
"Perhaps he is avoiding . . ." the quivering mass offered.
"I don't recall giving you permission to speak, corpse maggot!"
"No, your Tharchioness."
"So don't just cower there, find him!" she screamed, sending him out of the room at a
break-neck pace that was, no doubt, largely propelled by complete and utter terror.
The Tharchioness laughed for a moment, her thoughts temporarily diverted from the
precarious situation at hand.
"And while you're at it," she said aloud with a grin, though the ambassador had long since
left, "clean yourself up. You can't seek the High Blade smelling of excrement. He might
mistake you for one of his subjects."
*****
The Reid Room in the Tower of the Wyvern:

The two heads of state met in the receiving room, their entrances carefully orchestrated
and timed by their retinues so that neither seemed to have been left waiting for the other.
"Darling," the Tharchioness cooed.
"My Thayan beauty," the High Blade countered, "I was not expecting you for another
month."
"I just couldn't stand being away from you," she replied, her cruel lips pursed in fake
kisses for the husband she hated.
"That makes two of us," he agreed with just a hint of a leer that the retinues would no
doubt mistake for lust, rather than contempt. "How goes the re-building of Eltabbar?"
"Slowly."
"Earthquake, wasn't it?"
"Right as always."
During the entire exchange neither the husband nor the wife had come any closer to each