"Dave Duncan - Tales of King's Blades 2 - Lord of The Firelands" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

abandoned.
"Thought you were drilling beansprouts in sabers?"
Raider's emerald-green eyes twinkled.
"I wrapped Dominic's leg around his neck
until he offered to help me out." He was lying,
of course. Giving the juniors fencing practice
was never the most popular of assignments; but only
Raider would rather listen to a talk on politics,
even with the Order's latest hero doing the talking.
Dominic would have agreed to the exchange very
readily.
The door slammed, then Fitzroy came
clumping up the stair to announce that this was everyone.
Wasp looked around and counted two dozen seniors
present. Traditionally there should be less than that
in the whole class, but the King had assigned
only one Blade in seven months. Poor
Wolfbiter had been twenty-one by the time he was
bound last week. Bullwhip was twenty. The rest
were all eighteen or nineteen, unless some of them were
lying about their ages--as Wasp was.
As Prime, Bullwhip made a little speech.
He was chunky by Blade standards, a slasher not a
stabber--meaning saber not rapier--sandy-colored, the
sort of man who would charitably be described as
"stolid." He was certainly no orator.
Spender thanked him, took the chair Wasp had
brought, and began to talk politics,
specifically politics that led to civil war.
Master of Protocol and his assistants had the
unenviable task of preparing the candidates for
life at court. That included teaching them dancing,
deportment, elocution, etiquette, some
history, and a lot of politics. By their senior
year it was almost all politics--taxes,
Parliament, foreign affairs, the machinations of the
great houses. Frenetically active and athletic
young men would much rather be fencing or out riding on the
moors than listening to any of that stuff,
with the possible exception of the racy court scandals.
At least Spender was a novelty and hence more
interesting than the usual fare. The King of
Fitain had lost control of his barons and failed
to rally the burghers. Even kings needed allies.
And so on. Twenty-four young faces made
earnest efforts to seem attentive.
Only Raider would not be faking, Wasp
decided. Glancing sideways he saw that his friend
was indeed very intent, nodding to himself as he listened.
He had the strange perversion of finding politics