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

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Meiglan held firmly to her daughters' hands. Rislyn's she held for comfort; Jihan's she gripped more firmly, to prevent the child from racing forward into the thin winter dawn. Meiglan gulped in fresh air, the first she had tasted since the previous dusk, but despite its welcome dryness she was curiously reluctant to leave the tunnel. It had been safe in there, despite the damp and the blackness between torches.

Jihan tried to free her fingers. Meiglan held on more tightly. "No. Stay with me, both of you."

"You're hurting my ring, Mama," Jihan complained, and Meiglan let go. The girl did not dart off through the

crowd, but instead went to Rislyn's side and took her other hand. "It's all right, Lynnie, Papa will come get us soon. You can ride on his horse if you ask."

Rislyn nodded, her eyes huge. She had been the defiant one last evening, refusing to leave Stronghold now that her grandsir had given the twins rings and made them his athr'im: Jihan of Rosewall and Rislyn of the Willow Tree. But now Rislyn was exhausted and frightened. Meiglan knew just how she felt.

Jihan kept talking as they moved forward into the frail sunlight. "I hope we go to Skybowl—Lady Betheyn says the lake is much bigger than at Dragon's Rest, and on top of a mountain! Do you think that's true, Mama? And there aren't any trees at all, not even fruit trees or Granda's willow like in the garden at Stronghold." She gave her sister a quick smile. "Your willow tree! I want to see Feruche, too, and Tiglath—Mama, will you ask Lady Ruala to let us visit her at Elktrap? I want—" "Oh, be still!" Meiglan snapped. Kierun wove his way through the people trudging from the passage's mouth, his sack of cheese given over to someone better able to carry it. "My lady, I've found a place where you and the princesses can rest."

"Thank you, Kierun." She followed, grateful for his polite but adamant urgings of "Make way for Princess Meiglan!" that freed her and the girls from the knotted crowd.

He had left a boy of about six to watch the area made ready for them—flat rocks to sit on, a waterskin and a small loaf of bread and a round of cheese waiting for their breakfast. On seeing them, the child jumped up and said, "I didn't touch any!"

Meiglan realized that he was as hungry as they, and smiled reassurance. "Thank you for keeping this place for us. Why don't you stay and share our meal? Kierun, you too. Sit down, girls."

They had barely finished when Stronghold's head maidservant approached to ask if anyone had seen Lady Feylin. Tibalia cradled Sioned's jewel coffer to her breast, looking as if she had locked her arms around it

so tightly for so long that her bones and flesh had melded to the silver.

"No, I don't know where she is," Meiglan replied. "Why don't you sit down and rest for a little while, Tib-alia? Have something to eat."

She shook her head, locks of gray hair falling into her eyes. "I must find her, my lady. Lord Walvis has ridden in from the Court of the Storm God."

"Is that where we're going?" Jihan asked eagerly.

Meiglan barely heard her. He must have news of Pol. She almost sprang to her feet, then thought better of it. She was a princess; she could not very well go running to find Walvis herself. "Kierun, bring him here to me, please."

To keep herself occupied while she waited, she unbound Rislyn's hair and finger-combed it before plaiting it once more. Getting Jihan to sit still for the same was more difficult. She had just finished making sections for braiding when Walvis approached. Her fingers faltered slightly, then again took up the soothing rhythm of twisting her daughter's golden hair.

The older man's eyes were red-rimmed in his grief-haggard face. He bowed low, startling her. "I am glad to see you safe, your grace."

Not my lady, as she had always been addressed by Pol's friends and family. Your grace. How strange.

"Thank'you. And—my lord? He's well?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"Also safe, and uninjured as far as I know. I've come to take you to the Court of the Storm God."

"Are we going to Skybowl?" Jihan demanded. "Are

we?"

"No—to Feruche. We'll meet your father there." He glanced around him, eyes narrowing. "With all the wounded and the children, it'll be slow going. I've brought horses. And more troops to guard our backs. Are you ready, your grace?"

She nodded, and he bowed again. She wondered why.