"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 3 - The Unwilling Warlord" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

few leagues from the edge of the World, and that he was one of them, a
hereditary warlord, seemed so completely absurd that for a moment it was
easier to believe the whole thing was a gigantic joke of some kind.
An uncomfortable silence fell, to be broken by Lady Kalira.
"Your Majesty," she said, "I believe that our new warlord is weary from
his journey and overwhelmed by meeting you. Nor has he eaten since dawn."
This was not strictly true, since Sterren's party had finished breakfast
well after sunrise, but it was close enough.
"Of course," the king agreed. "Of course. Take him to his room, then, and
let him recover himself. We'll speak with him more when he's rested and has
eaten." He waved a hand in dismissal.
Lady Kalira bowed, and Sterren imitated her again. Then she motioned for
him to follow and led the way to the right, through the crowd to a door, and
out of the throne room. Alder and Dogal followed discreetly.
They emerged into a corridor, where Lady Kalira turned left and led the
way up curving stairs. Sterren's stiff legs protested, but he followed her.
At the second-floor she kept going, and Sterren followed without
question.
At the third floor he paused, hoping she would change her mind, but she
kept on climbing. He suppressed a moan.
 At the fourth floor he considered asking how much further they had to go,
but couldn't think of the right words in Semmat.
At the fifth floor he was panting heavily.
At the sixth floor the staircase ended, and he breathed a sigh of relief
as Lady Kalira led him down a passageway, and then she reached another
staircase and started up again. He balked.
Alder and Dogal came up behind him and did not stop; he yielded and
hurried on, up into the tower.
After just one more flight, on the seventh floor, they left the staircase
and headed down one more short passage, to an iron-bound door. Lady Kalira
turned a large black key in the lock, then swung the door open to reveal the
room beyond.
"This is your room, as the warlord," she announced. She stood back to let
him enter. "It was your great-uncle's for almost twenty years, and his
father's, your great-grandfather's, for half a century before that."
Sterren stepped in cautiously.
He was in a large, airy chamber, one side mostly taken up by three broad,
curtainless, many-paned windows. Thick tapestries, slightly faded but still
handsome, hid the stone walls. A high canopied bed stood centered against one
wall, with a table on either side, a wardrobe beyond the left-hand table, and
a chest of drawers to the right. Opposite the bed was a desk, or worktable,
flanked by tall bookcases jammed with books and papers. A chair was tucked
away in each corner of the room; counting the one at the desk, there were five
in all.
Sterren turned and discovered that the wall around the doorway was
covered with displays of weapons, swords, knives, spears, pole-arms, and a
good many he could not put a name to, even in Ethsharitic. He wondered if he,
as warlord, was expected to learn to use them.
The weapons were all dusty. In fact, everything was covered by a layer of
dust, the desk, the books, the papers, everything. The air was full of the