"Gordon R. Dickson - Call him lord" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

at times like this, begging for what could not be. And always
the men had held them, as Kyle was holding her nowas if
understanding could somehow be pressed from one body into
the otherand saying nothing, because there was nothing that
could be said.
So, Kyle held her for a few moments longer, and then
reached behind him to unlock her intertwined fingers at his
back, and loosen her arms around him. Then, he went.
Looking back through the kitchen window as he rode off on
the stallion, leading the gray horse, he saw her standing just
where he had left her. Not even crying, but standing with her
arms hanging down, her head down, not moving.
He rode away through the forest of the Kentucky hillside.
It took him more than two hours to reach the lodge. As he
rode down the valleyside toward it, he saw a tall, bearded
man, wearing the robes they wore on some of the Younger
Worlds, standing at the gateway to the interior courtyard of
the rustic, wooded lodge.
When he got close, he saw that the beard was graying and
the man was biting his lips. Above a straight, thin nose, the
eyes were bloodshot and circled beneath as if from worry or
lack of sleep.
"He's in the courtyard," said the gray-bearded man as Kyle
rode up. "I'm Montlaven, his tutor. He's ready to go." The
darkened eyes looked almost pleadingly up at Kyle.
"Stand clear of the stallion's head," said Kyle. "And take
me in to him."
 "Not that horse, for him" said Montlaven, looking dis-
trustfully at the stallion, as he backed away.
"No," said Kyle. "He'll ride the gelding."
"He'll want the white."
"He can't ride the white," said Kyle. "Even if I let him, he
couldn't ride this stallion. I'm the only one who can ride him.
Take me in."
The tutor turned and led the way into the grassy courtyard,
surrounding a swimming pool and looked down upon, on
three sides, by the windows of the lodge. In a lounging chair
by the pool sat a tall young man in his late teens, with a mane
of blond hair, a pair of stuffed saddlebags on the grass beside
him. He stood up as Kyle and the tutor came toward him.
"Majesty," said the tutor, as they stopped, "this is Kyle
Arnam, your bodyguard for the three days here."
"Good morning, Bodyguard . . . Kyle, I mean." The Prince
smiled mischievously. "Light, then. And I'll mount."
"You ride the gelding. Lord," said Kyle.
The Prince stared at him, tilted back his handsome head.
and laughed.
"I can ride, man!" he said. "I ride well."
"Not this horse. Lord," said Kyle, dispassionately. "No one
rides this horse, but me."