"Nancy Varian - Berberick - Dalamar the Dark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varian Nancy)

Eflid," he said, mocking the man with the title he did not own. "You'd best
tend him, eh?"
"Aye, and I'll attend to you later, boy."
"Do you think so?" Dalamar nodded once, an ironic bow. "Well, you may try, as
ever you do."
The cleric came into the kitchen, the storm on his heels, thunder at his back.
Dalamar moved aside, barely hearing the man's reply when Eflid hustled him
inside, fawning and bowing, assuring him that a fire would be made for him,
wine brought. "Lord Ralan will be pleased to see you, my Lord Tellin. Come
with me. Yes, right through here into the study."
Dalamar looked up at the sky, the lightning cutting through the clouds and the
rain pouring down, then he turned and left the kitchen. He had countered
Eflid's threat with a threat, and he thought he could smell the docks and the
fishers' nets.
Idiot, he thought. He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robes,
clenching fists he wanted no one to see. Neither did anyone see the rage on
his face as he went through the kitchen, the dining hall, and along the
corridor to the servants' wing and his own tiny chamber. Had any looked into
his eyes, though, he would have found rage there. Rage as cold as winter's
rage, fury like a storm over Icewall Bay. Idiot! To risk a comfortable enough
position for the sake of a girl he'd have enjoyed once, perhaps twice, then
never bothered with again. He deserved what fate he'd earned, the reek of fish
at the docks, the endless mending of nets, the constant slap and groan of the
river outside whatever poor hut he would be given as home.

*****

Firelight glowed on rich polished oak, making Lord Ralan's desk seem to be
crafted of gold. It warmed the mahogany of chairs to deep red, and the crystal
carafe looked as if it had been cut from one whole ruby, so deeply did the
fire's light shine in the wine. Outside, the world hung gray, pouring with
rain beneath a sky the color of lead. Inside, ah, inside the study of Lord
Ralan, things were far more pleasant.
Lord Tellin Windglimmer had been standing awhile, unattended in Ralan's study,
but the wait was not an unpleasant one. Warm by the fire, he passed the time
looking around at the high ceiling of his host's study and the tapestries on
the walls, each depicting a scene from Silvanesti history.
Upon the grandest of those hangings Silvanos was shown, a king in his kingdom.
He stood in the midst of a circle of towers, each tower representing one of
the Houses of the people. In that tapestry even an elf child could read the
history of his people and know how in ancient days Silvanos gathered together
all the tribes of elf-kind and imposed upon them an order, a structure of
Houses that survived even to this day. The head of each house, the
Householder, became a member of the Silvanos Council, the Sinthal-Elish, and
from them the king and all kings who followed sought advice when he wanted it
or endured it when his council insisted he hear it.
First, the ancient king anointed House Silvanos, which people now knew as
House Royal. He then ordained House Cleric, among whom lived the priests,
temple-keepers, and those who maintained the records of the nation. The
defenders of Silvanesti were men and women of House Protector. In his wisdom,