"Dave Duncan - A Man of His Word 4 - Emperor And Clown" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

was being impudent by not laughing.


If Aunt Oro asked any questions, of course, he'd have to tell the truth, and if he was still limping ... "The matter of Krasnegar has already been
settled, signed and sealed!" Ythbane was shouting. Bad sign. He shouted a lot these days. He'd never shouted before Grandfather got old.


Shouting wasn't going to do him much good with the jotunn, though. The big silver beard parted to show big yellow teeth. "With respect, Eminence-
" He didn't look respectful. "-the document we initialed was merely a memorandum of agreement. It was always subject to the approval of the
Thanes' Moot."


"And you were to send it-"


"It is on its way to Nordland. I respectfully remind your Eminence, though, that Nordland is months away, and the Moot meets only once a year, at
midsummer."


The ministers were whispering at Ythbane's back, the secretaries and heralds fretting and shuffling. The jotnar were smirking. Ythbane seemed to
swell, all pompous in his toga with a purple hem. "So it will not be ratified until next summer-"


"Isn't that obvious?"


"-but until then-"


"No! Until the news reaches Hub! You do realize that the return journey will also take months?" The pale-skinned old man leered down at the
consul, and his manner was so like the one Ythbane himself used on Shandie that Shandie almost disgraced himself by giggling. Ythbane would kill
him if he did that.


Ythbane swung around and whispered for a moment with Lord Humaise, and Lord Hithire, and a couple of other new advisors Shandie didn't know;
then he turned around to confront the ambassador again, his face dark as a postilion's boot.


"The wording of the memorandum was very specific. Until the Moot's decision is conveyed to his Imperial Majesty's council, both sides shall act as
if the agreement has been ratified in formal treaty. The king will remain in-"


"King?"


"Oh ... what's his name? ... the former Duke of Kinvale!" Ythbane was snarling. He was ever so mad now, and ... Oh, no! Shandie's dead arm had
drooped so low that the train of his toga was starting to slide off it. God of Children! What did he do now? " . . and you were to nominate a viceroy
pro tem, subject to . . ." The consul was growing even louder and madder. He would stay mad for days after this. Shandie needed to yawn. His toga