"Anne Bishop - Black Jewels 00 - The Invisible Ring" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bishop Anne)

was a Warlord who wore the Purple Dusk Jewel. How did he survive looking at
the bruised, naked bodies of his Brothers? How did he survive looking at the
ones who had been maimed or broken or shaved? Did he go home to a lover or a
wife he felt some affection for? Did he have children he cuddled and played
with and loved? Or had he picked up a witch at the auction one year, one
already broken and barren, whom he mounted without considering her feelings
or well-being? What did he think of the males bought and sold here? Had he
ever looked up one day and seen a man he'd called a friend standing on the
auction block? Ah, the shadows in the eyes. The worry behind having to
escort someone like the Gray Lady around the slave fair. Look well, Jared
thought as the man finished applying the salve and stepped away. Look at the
price you may have to pay for one error in judgment. As if the thoughts had
been sent on a psychic spear thread, the escort looked Jared in the eyes.
Seconds passed in strained silence. "You're nothing but a pretty mouth, a
dangle for the Ladies to play with," the escort snarled. Jared smiled
savagely. "I'm a Red-Jeweled Shalador Warlord. I'm stronger than you'll ever
be, can unleash power you can only dream of. And I'm still here."
The escort's jaw tightened. His breathing became harsh. "Get dressed. Your
dangle's for private viewing now."
The clothes had been dropped on a rough bench next to the small table that
held the basin. Jared forced himself to look away from the basin full of
dirty water, but not soon enough. With a fiercely pleased look in his eyes,
the escort used Craft to vanish the basin. "You may wear the Red, but you're
still a slave, you're still Ringed. I might not know the power you wielded
when it was yours to command, but I'll walk out of here a free man, have a
cold dipper of water whenever I want it, have a tankard of ale once I've
seen the Gray Lady safely onto a Coach, and tonight I'll mount a woman like
a man's entitled to. And you? You would have gotten down on your belly and
licked the bottom of my boots for a sip of fouled water."
"I won't deny it," Jared said. "But you, free? For now, maybe. The only
difference between service and slavery is a circle of gold. If the Red can
be chained, how long will the Purple Dusk stay free? If the right amount of
gold marks changed hands tomorrow, how long do you think it would take to
turn the handsome escort into a handsome slave?"
The escort's face flushed a dull, angry red. He raised a fist.
Jared didn't speak, didn't move. He just glanced at the door leading into
the hallway and smiled knowingly. He watched the escort fight to hide the
clashing emotions, saw the moment the man realized he wouldn't be able to
justify the "discipline."
Lowering his fist, the escort spat out words like they were gristle. "In
five minutes, I'm chaining you and taking you out of here." He flung open
the hallway door but stopped in the doorway and stared at Jared with burning
eyes. "I hope she cuts you apart a piece at a time."
"I imagine she will," Jared said, after the escort slammed out of the room.
By force of will, he managed the couple of steps needed to reach the rough
bench. Spreading the shirt, he sat on it carefully, grateful his shaking
legs didn't have to support him for a minute. Jared, if you're going
skin-swimming at the pond, remember to spread the towel on the log before
you sit on it or you'll have splinters where you least want them. Where's
that, Mother? Ask your father.