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

The great topaz gleamed in its circle of emeralds where Chay had placed it on his finger only a little while ago. He had never seen that ring on any hand but his father's. To find it now on his own cut him to the heart.

He stood there in the blazing night, Fire lighting the tears that ran like scars down his cheeks.



Chapter Three



The Vellanti courier strode across Princess Chiana's priceless carpets, leaving a trail of mulchy leaves, raindrops, and mud. He was lacquered in it head to foot and as he yanked off his cap in her presence, water flew in all directions.

Chiana hastily drew back in her chair. "How dare you come in here covered in filth! Look what you've done!" "Mother," Rinhoel murmured, pale green eyes intent on the single clean thing about the courier, a little gleam of gold stashed safely in the cap. He held out his hand and when the dragon token was in his grasp he wasted precisely one instant admiring its solid gold wings and ruby eyes. "You come from the High Warlord, then."

"Yes, my lord. Rohan is dead at Stronghold. It and he still burn with cursed Fire." "Dead?" Chiana gasped. "Are you certain?" He looked at her as if she were insane. "Would it be said if it were untrue?" "But how did he die? Not in battle, surely!" "At his years?" the courier scoffed. "When warriors beat through the flames, they came upon him lying on the ground as if sleeping. None dared touch him, nor come too close, but a physician looked and saw, and believes his heart stopped in his chest."

Chiana snorted. "A wonder Sioned's didn't stop, as well—one heart in two bodies." She caught her lower lip between her teeth, the corners of her mouth curving. "Poor Sioned. Oh, poor, poor Sioned!"

She was still grinning—inside—when she summoned Rialt and Naydra and told them the High Prince was

dead. She explained her knowledge by saying that couriers had ridden night and day since the terrible tragedy; true enough, and unnecessary to identify exactly whose couriers, for the instant the news left her lips they were too stunned to think.

Rinhoel, standing nearby, wore a decently sorrowful expression. "Naturally, the ritual will be held tonight. Our steward will provide the proper gray clothes and all that must be done will be done. Lady Aurar notwithstanding," he added with a frown.

"Aurar?" Naydra echoed, bewildered. Her eyes were liquid with grief; Rialt looked sick, too dumbstruck to comprehend anything.

Chiana, watching her half-sister's face, blessed her son's cleverness. "Aurar refuses to put on mourning. She says it serves Rohan right for condoning her father's murder and for sending Kostas to take Catha Heights." She gave a tiny shrug. "As if it was Rohan's fault that Patwin turned traitor, or that Mirsath killed him at Faolain Lowland.

Rinhoel nodded. "I'm afraid her sorrow for her father has unsettled her mind. I've told her not to show her face at the ritual if she knows what's good for her."

That Aurar had other, better things to do with her time went unmentioned; the purpose of the little exercise was to excuse her absence. Not that either Naydra or Rialt would notice, Chiana thought. Still, best to be cautious.

"May I leave, your grace?" Rialt asked suddenly.

Chiana nodded her sympathy. "Of course. This is a terrible loss to us all, Master Rialt."

For once he did not arch a sardonic brow as she deprived him of his honorary title. He walked from the room as if in a dream. Naydra went with him. Rinhoel waited until the outer doors had closed before turning a broad smile on his mother.

"They'll be paralyzed for days over this."

"They'd better be. I don't like to think what Rialt could get up to if he found out Tilal and Ostvel are so close to Swalekeep."

"But they'll be paralyzed, too. This couldn't have come at a better time!" He threw the golden dragon into the air, catching it before tossing it into her lap. "Thus too Castle Crag, my lady, after the Vellanti have beaten its lord outside our walls."

"Will they come in time?" Despite the excellent turn of events, she was fretful. "There's been no reply from Lord Varek."

"His army marching up the Faolain will be answer enough. Don't worry, Mother."

"I'll try not to—but it's been my whole life, Rinhoel, waiting, always waiting. ..." Another thought occurred to her. "We'd better send someone with Aurar, to make sure she hands over our letter instead of tending to her own ambitions. Do you know she had the gall to order me to march on Syr?"