"Kerr,.Katharine.-.Westlands.01.-.A.Time.Of.Exile" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

"And have I turned away from you yet?" Addryc said levelly. "I have yet to pronounce my judgment."
Abashed, Melaudd looked away.
"My prince." Addryc turned to Halaberiel. "I'm considering asking you to surrender land for Dovyn's demesne at the lake-shore. In return, I'll grant you and your people a clear, formal, and indisputable title to the land along the west bank of the Gwynaver. With my seal upon the charter, this matter will never rise again. The burying ground and the north shore of the lake will be yours. The south shore and a dun at the river's mouth will be Dovyn's. All the land between the lake and the Gwynaver will be yours to hunt in or to fortify as you think fit."
"With Bears on the south shore, fortification might be in order," Halaberiel said. "Your Highness, I realize that this is a difficult judgment for you. You have offered a generous settlement, one which I'm minded to take. On the other hand, I have vassals just as you do. No one among my people will give up the south shore easily-I warn you. You're sitting there squirming, wondering if your lords will cause you trouble if you favor me. I'm sitting here squirming just as hard, wondering what my people will think of me if I take this bargain. Do you understand?"
It was so high-handed, foreign, and utterly honest that the councillors and priests gasped aloud. Addryc leaned back in his chair and sighed, running his fingers over the hilt of the ornate ceremonial sword-he understood all too well. Halaberiel turned to Aderyn with one pale eyebrow raised.
"And what does my honored councillor advise?" Halaberiel said.
For privacy Aderyn rose, bowed to the prince, and led Halaberiel outside to the hall.
"I think we should take it, Hal. It's the best we're going to get, and Nananna will work on keeping down resentment. You're not truly the kind of prince who has to worry about rebellions, and Addryc is."
"Poor old Addryc. Well, we've saved the death-ground, and truly, that was first in my mind. I don't trust these Bears, though. How long will it be before they push their greedy snouts northward? That young cub needs to be turned over someone's knee and spanked."
"Well, you're right enough, but if you turn down the judgment, then it's war. Melaudd can rally the prince's other vassals against you because you've refused the prince's judgment."
"Indeed?" Halaberiel considered for a moment. "Well, let me see if I can wring one more concession out of his harried highness."
They returned to the dead-silent room. Halaberiel bowed, then stayed standing to address his royal counterpart.
"Your Highness, your judgment seems fair to me, except for one small point. Will you guarantee me and my people access to the northern lands from the south? The best ford lies in the land you would give the Bears."
"I see no reason why you can't have road rights. The road should be a public one, anyway, so the merchants can use it."
When Dovyn started to speak, his father laid a warning hand on his arm.
"That seems only just, Your Highness," Melaudd said. "If the prince will guarantee the good conduct of his people as they pass through. I know they travel with sheep and horses, and farmers can't afford the loss if stock wanders off into their fields."
"We shall make a formal pact," Halaberiel said. "Any trampled grain shall be paid for in mutton and wool."
Pleased, Melaudd nodded; the prince smiled; the councillors gave Aderyn small nods of satisfaction that reason had prevailed.
"And what about when your people steal mine blind?" Dovyn snapped.
Every seated man in the room rose. The priest of Bel stepped forward, watchful to prevent bloodshed. Halaberiel shook off Aderyn's restraining hand and strode over to face Dovyn.
"Just what are you calling me?"
"Everyone knows the Westfolk are a pack of thieves. Why shouldn't you be a prince of thieves?"
With a startled gasp, Melaudd threw himself forward, but too late. Halaberiel slapped Dovyn backhanded across the face so hard that the lad staggered back. Halaberiel turned to the prince in appeal.
"So this is the kind of court you keep in Eldidd," Halaberiel said. "Where a man who puts himself under your judgment must listen to insults and lies."
"Naught of the sort," Addryc said levelly. "Lord Dovyn will tender you a formal apology. I trust his father agrees with me on this."
"His father does indeed, Your Highness." Melaudd's voice shook. "And I'll tender my own apology first and freely."
Everyone was watching the two princes, suddenly united against this presumption of a lesser lord. Aderyn felt a cold dweomer touch and turned to see Dovyn sliding his sword free of its sheath.
"Don't!" Aderyn yelled. "Hal, watch out!"
Halaberiel spun around just as Dovyn drew and swung. Aderyn threw himself forward and took a blow on his left hand- mercifully only a glancing one as Dovyn tried to hold up, or he would have been known as Aderyn One-hand forever after. He heard the crack of breaking bone and stared numbly at a surge of blood as the room exploded-yelling, swearing, scuffling among the onlookers, the princes shouting for order, the priest invoking Bel's name. Melaudd made a frantic grab at his son, pinned him from behind, and shook him so hard that Dovyn dropped the sword. Halaberiel caught Aderyn's shoulder, steadied him, and swore at the sight of the wound. The priest of Bel ran forward and grabbed Aderyn's arm just as the door flew open and the prince's guard shoved their way in. His face purple with rage, Addryc waved them back, but they stood ready out in the corridor.
"So, Melaudd," Addryc growled, "is this how you raise your sons-drawing on a man in my hall? My hall? By the name of every god of our people! In my very chamber of justice!"
Melaudd tried to answer, but he was shaking too hard. Dovyn broke free and threw himself down at the prince's feet.
"I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness. I . . . I . . . I just forgot myself."
Halaberiel left Aderyn to the priest and stepped forward.
"And how soon would you remember his highness's judgment, then? Your Highness, do you truly expect me to strike a bargain with men like these?"
Aderyn suddenly realized that he was close to fainting, a luxury that he couldn't afford in this dangerous pass. He staggered to a chair and sat down hard. The priest knelt beside him and tried desperately to stanch the running wound with a scarf that the scribe handed him.
"Look at this!" Addryc's voice growled with indignation. "He's wounded a councillor and an unarmed man! Guard! Run and fetch the chirurgeon!"
"I'll be all right in a minute," Aderyn gasped.
Although the white scarf was soaking with bright red blood, and his fingers stuck out at an unnatural angle, Aderyn felt no pain. His mind noted his own symptoms from a detached distance: shaking, chills, a dry mouth-oh, he was in shock, all right. He looked up and tried to concentrate on the strange tableau in front of him: Dovyn scarlet with shame at the prince's feet; Halaberiel frozen with rage; Melaudd pale, his mouth working as if he were praying to the gods to let him wake from what had to be a nightmare.
"Your Highness," Aderyn whispered, "please don't make a decision in fury. My prince, that goes for you, too."
Then he fainted dead away. He seemed to be standing in a swirling dark void, flecked with gold light like fish scales. In the midst of a rushy hiss of noise, he heard someone call his name, and Nananna came striding out of the mists. Here on the inner planes, her image was young and beautiful, her stance that of a warrior.
"What have they done to you? Does the banadar still live?"
"He does. I just fainted, that's all. The lad who hurt me has been arrested."
Although Aderyn tried to tell her more, he began floating away, swimming up from the bottom of a dark gold-flecked river. The rushy hiss grew louder and louder; then suddenly he broke the surface and found himself awake, lying on a feather bed. A heavyset man with a blond mustache was bandaging his splinted fingers. Aderyn smelled the clean sharp scent of bruised comfrey root packed in his wound.
"Should heal up fine," the chirurgeon was saying over his shoulder. "A superficial slice. These things cut a lot of minor blood vessels, looks like the third hell, but nothing dangerous. Now, as for the fingers, he's got two broken, but it's a clean fracture."
"Just so," Aderyn gasped out. "I need water to restore my humors, too."
"Aha, you're awake, are you? They told me you were a physician of sorts."
The chirurgeon gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and stood up to make room for Halaberiel, who brought Aderyn water in a silver goblet. He sat down on the bed, slipped one arm under Aderyn's shoulders, and helped him drink.
"You took the cut intended for me. I'll never forget this. You're a friend of the People now and forever."
"Most welcome." Aderyn was still too groggy to appreciate the force of that promise. "What did you and the prince determine?"
"Naught yet." Addryc himself stepped forward. "Prince Halaberiel and I decided to take the last bit of wise advice you gave us. Lord Dovyn is shut up in a chamber under house arrest. His father gave me a personal pledge of security for him. Here, Aderyn, Melaudd is a good man, and he's truly shattered by his son's arrogance."