"Rawn, Melanie - Dragon Star 2 - Dragon Token" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

the smart thing and welcomed them, he could leave behind troops to secure Swalekeep and take the rest down the Pyrme. There he would meet up with the Syrene army now commanded by Rihani and Saumer. And at last they would start for the Desert, relieve the siege at Stronghold, and push the Vellant'im into the sea.

Tilal merely nodded and shrugged when asked his opinion of this plan. He had said nothing much since news of his brother Kostas' death many days ago. Andrev saw to all his needs, a silent little blond shadow at his side every instant—except when the boy was Sunrunning. Ostvel, left with all the work on the journey to Swale-keep, could have used the squire's help. But Andrev was sworn to Tilal, not to him. So he left them to themselves.

Camped for the night in a meadow halfway to Swale-keep, he was beginning to think Chiana a stupid woman after all. There had been no messenger, no scouts sighted at a distance, nothing. Every morning he received the same report from Kerluthan, and every morning he gave the same order: mount and ride for Swalekeep. But not too quickly. It was getting a trifle monotonous.

"What's her problem?" he muttered when Kerluthan came with the same news yet again. "She must know that we at least suspect what she's up to—though she can't know we had proof at Catha Heights."

"Maybe she thinks if she ignores us, we'll just go away." Kerluthan grinned all over his broad, craggy face.

"Hmph. Maybe she just thinks that we wouldn't dare attack."

"She'll have to think again."

"I like your spirit, Kerluthan, but if you must have action, ride afield today and bring down some deer for the cookpots. Regular camp rations are unsettling my stomach, and at my age, digestion is everything." He broke off as Andrev darted on foot around four soldiers leading six horses and skidded to a stop in the dew-wet grass. "Here, what's all this?" Ostvel began.

"My lords—Stronghold is ablaze and—"

"Impossible!" Kerluthan growled.

"Hush and let him finish." Sick dread ached in his throat. "You've spoken with your sister?"

"Yes, my lord—oh, my lord, they've all left Stronghold and burned it behind them with Sunrunner's Fire and—and—" Andrev looked up at Ostvel in anguish. "Tobren says that the High Prince is dead!"

Ostvel's gaze wandered from the boy's face to the meadow before him, trampled to brown mud beneath boots and hooves. He looked up at the sky, and the white clouds edged in silver-gilt that drifted high on the morning breeze. He looked at anything that did not look back with knowledge in its eyes that his prince and his friend was dead.

"My lord?" Kerluthan's voice, worried and subdued.

Ostvel nodded. "Andrev. Take me to Prince Tilal. You can tell me on the way what else Tobren said. Lord Kerluthan, make ready to march on Swalekeep."

The younger man knew the difference in the order: march on, not to. He nodded and strode away. Ostvel put a hand on Andrev's thin shoulder.

"Tell me the rest," he said quietly.

*

At Castle Crag, within the crystal oratory that clung to the cliff, Alasen sat alone. The ritual would be held tomorrow night, but with the fall of dusk today she had lit candles by the hundreds in rows at the back of the oratory. Tonight she kept her own vigil.

Her gaze sought the pane of glass broken by Rohan in 719, replaced by Ostvel with one etched with the dragon cipher. Fironese crafters had colored the dragon golden-yellow and given it blue eyes. A real emerald was set into the ring pinched between the beast's talons. It was the only stained glass in the oratory. When the sun shone, the whole room was drenched in color and the emerald refracted blue-green sparks in all directions.

Now, past midnight and with no moons, the gold and blue and green still caught the light. But there was no

sparkle to the oratory, only the reflections of rows of candle flames against black glass.

Alasen didn't think much about Rohan. She thought about her eldest daughter and her only son, who were somewhere between Stronghold and Feruche this night. She thought about her husband, marching on Swalekeep. But mostly she thought about herself.

How safe it was, perched here above the Faolain River. How safely she had lived her life here. After those few terrible days of Andrade's death and Andry's love, Ostvel had given her peace. How her father Volog and her brother Latham were dead, and Rohan, and hundreds more whose names she did not know. Ostvel and Jeni and Dannar were in the middle of war. Yet here, there was still safety and peace.

She had spent all the years since the discovery and the denial of what she was clutching at the safety of this place. She had distanced herself from princes and Sunrunners. Perhaps now was the time to acknowledge that she was both. Perhaps now she could no longer isolate her mind and heart, keeping each to the uses of her life here at Castle Crag.