"Janny Wurts - The Cycle of Fire1 - Stormwarden" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wurts Janny)

his robe and set Taen abruptly on her feet.
The girl stumbled into Anskiere's shirt and clung. The Stormwarden locked his hands over her quivering
back.

The black sorcerer smiled. "Stormwarden, you are be-trayed." He added sweetly, "Earlier you claimed
you would rather bum for the murders at Tierl Enneth than bargain with Tathagres. But for the child's
sake perhaps you will reconsider."

Anskiere did not speak. Presently, muttered oaths and a scuffle beyond the doorway heralded a new
arrival as two sailors brought Emien, trussed and struggling, between them. The black sorcerer stepped
aside to avoid being jostled. Given a clear view of the sailroom, the boy caught sight of his sister, then the
Stormwarden sheltering her.

"Taen!" His outcry held despair mingled with anger. "Taen, why did you come here?"

When the girl failed to respond, her brother spat at the Stormwarden's feet. One of the sailors laughed.

"Do you find hatred amusing?" said a new voice from the darkness behind.

The sailor who had laughed gasped and fell silent, eyes widened with fear.

"Or did I arrive too late to share some jest?" Preceded by a faint sparkle of amethyst, a tall slender
woman stepped into view. Silver-blond hair feathered around a face of extraordinary beauty; beneath a
masculine browline her eyes were thickly lashed and violet as the jewels which trimmed her cloak at
collar and hem.

The black sorcerer bowed. 'Tathagres."

The woman slipped past the boatswain's lantern and entered. She placed an elegant hand upon the
bulkhead, leaned oh it, and bent a bright gaze upon the Stormwarden and the girl he sheltered.

"You are brought low, Anskiere of Elrinfaer." Her accent was meticulously perfect.

The Stormwarden cradled Taen against his chest. "Not so low."

"No? You'll do the King's bidding." Tathagres fingered the hilt of the dagger at her waist, serene as a
marble carving. "Stormwarden, recall your falcon."

Anskiere answered with grave courtesy. "The bird is beyond my present powers." He lifted his hands
from Taen's shift, and cotton sleeves tumbled back, unveiling the sultry glow of fet-ters. "Dare you free
me? I'll recall her then."

Tathagres' fingers flinched into a fist around the dagger hilt. The skin of her neck and cheeks paled
delicately. "You presume far too much. Do you think your stormfalcon concerns me? She is insignificant,
and you are less. If you value that little girl's life, you'll go to Cliffhaven and ward weather for the
Kielmark, by royal decree."

Anskiere stirred. Gently, he covered Taen's head with crossed palms. Her black hair streaked his
knuckles like ink as he spoke. "Do you threaten?"