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

Sioned turned her cheek into his caress, her lips curving. "Rohan?"

Meath took both her hands in his. "Go back to sleep, Sioned."

But the sound of a voice that was not his voice woke her. Not that she had ever been truly sleeping; he saw it in the green eyes that were colorless in the starshine. She gazed up at him for a long moment with no expression on her face at all.

Then: "Hold me. Please, Meath."

He lay beside her in the chill sand, taking her into his arms. There was no possibility she could pretend he was Rohan; Meath was half again his size. But he felt a soft, guilty happiness that she turned to him, to no one else. He would keep watch, and protect her, and stay with her. He had promised Rohan, true, but long ago he had promised himself.

*

Tobin shifted irritably as Feylin sat down and spread half her cloak across her shoulders. "Not cold,"she rasped.

"That's odd. I am, and so is everyone else. Do you have liquid sunlight running in your veins instead of blood?" Leaning her head back against the wall, Feylin closed her eyes and let all the breath sigh out of her. "I wonder if we'll be going back, or going on."

Tobin shrugged. When she was tired like this, it was even more difficult to get words around her tongue. She cursed this underground tunnel where there was no light save that of torches. Still, even if there'd been sun, she couldn't have spoken to Feylin on it anyway.

"The servants brought the oddest things out of Stronghold," Feylin mused. "Tibalia is staggering under the weight of Sioned's jewel coffer, and some of the maids are eye-deep in blankets—which at least will be useful. Kierun, bless him, has a sack of cheeses from the pantry that's twice as big as he is."

"Mmm," Tobin responded drowsily. She had been cold, and now that she was warming up, tension was draining out of her. She knew what Feylin was doing— the low, steady words were meant to soothe her into sleep. She couldn't bring herself to struggle against it.

"A few of them are even trying to wrestle that dragon tapestry along. They ought to put it on a litter—it must weigh at least five silkweights. As I was passing, they dropped it again and I swear that dragon was staring at me—"

Tobin heard herself say, "Dragons."

"Yes, it's a pity Azhdeen didn't see fit to come visit Pol today from the Catha," Feylin went on in the same soft tones. "It would've been nice to have the Vellant'im on their knees so their heads could be conveniently lopped off. I wonder why they're so terrified of—"

"Dragons," Tobin said again, not knowing why. Feylin watched her narrowly, her eyes dark gray in the dimness, framed with lines acquired from years of squinting over charts and statistics and manuscripts. Those lines had been etched deeper since the death of Jahnavi, her only son.

Dragons.

Tobin grasped her arm. "Feylin—th-the book!" "What book?" "Your book!"

"Sweet Goddess! Stay here, don't move." She scrambled up and fled around a bend in the passage, back toward the entry into Stronghold.

Tobin tried to gain her feet. Failed, of course. She glared down at her exhausted, useless body. What good was a mind inside a body that would not do its bidding? Then she sobered. Better to live like this than become shadow-lost like Morwenna and Relnaya: whole of body, mind gone.

It seemed forever before Feylin returned, Dannar with her. The boy carried something large and heavy, wrapped in a bedsheet. "He remembered," Feylin said. Dannar knelt beside Tobin to show her a corner of the book. "After what the High Princess and I did to the one at Remagev, I couldn't forget this one."

Feylin nodded. "If they found it, they'd know what's true about dragons, instead of what we want them to believe. You're Pol's squire, I know, but I don't think he'd mind my stealing you for a little while. Whatever happens, Dannar, that book's safety is your only concern." "Yes, my lady."

Tobin reached out her good hand to pat Dannar's knee. As trustworthy and solid as his father Ostvel, and

as devoted. She made a mental note to tell Rohan that Dannar deserved special recognition for his quick thinking.

Feylin plucked a torch from a nearby guard and gave it to him. "Go up to the front now, where Princess Meig-lan and the girls are. And on your way, start everyone moving again."

"Are we going back to Stronghold, my lady?" Below the shock of red hair, Kierstian green eyes regarded them solemnly amid layers of dirt and sweat.