"Duncan, Dave - Paragon Lost v1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

7 Paragon Lost

sat, pulling Isabelle down beside him, then reached across for the
wine bottle. He poured, filling three goblets.

His boots had brought a powerful odor of stable into the room. He
was a compact man, and his filthy, shabby leather jerkin and
breeches made him seem small compared to the padded and
pleated visitor—those were emphatically not the clothes he
normally wore when meeting potential clients. He was bareheaded,
which no gentleman ever was, but the wind that could never ruffle
his ash-blond curls had flushed his fair cheeks. Or his color might
be from anger, for certainly his pale eyes were steely as he
regarded the stranger.

“I recognized Destrier.” Beau set a glass in front of Isabelle. “He’s
too old now for such a long ride. He has an ingrown lash in his right
eye that should be seen to.” In a world where every man prized
himself on his horsemanship, that was first point to Beau.

The visitor could be just as inscrutable. “He doesn’t live on
Starkmoor any more and I’ll tell my son to have the eye looked at.”

Starkmoor was the site of Ironhall, the Blades’ headquarters and
school, and now Isabelle recalled this stranger’s curious remark, “I
thought I had put a stop to it.” Only three men could hope to stop
the King’s Blades doing anything they pleased, and since he was
neither the King nor Commander Vicious, he must be Grand
Master, the legendary Durendal, Earl Roland, of whom Beau
normally spoke with awe and reverence, quite unlike his current
biting mockery. Roland had been the finest fencer of his
generation and King Ambrose’s Lord Chancellor for another. She
had just offered him fencing lessons.

“Are you truly forbidden to use your Blade name?” he asked.

Beau shrugged. “Title. It was always only honorary and a

8 Dave Duncan

stable hand claiming knightly rank is unseemly. ‘Beaumont
Cookson’ lacks euphony, don’t you agree?”

“Some say that you brought much of your trouble on yourself.”

“Who does not cry for just deserts, when all he really wants is
pity?”

Grand Master showed his teeth. “You had orders to leave town.