"Ed Greenwood - Band of Four 02 - The Vacant Throne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenwood Ed)

watch over, and fight for, that part of Aglirta that knew the rule of their fathers, and forefathers; you,
Lords, do not. Be my agent in your demesne, not its advocate before me. Be that—or be nothing."
"But—" The Tersept of Yarsimbra saw his straying into overboldness the instant he'd launched himself,
and fell firmly silent, bowing his head in apology or genuflection. His rival tersept was not so prudent.
"My father was Lord in Helvand before me," the younger tersept snarled, his face white with anger and
his voice trembling, "and his father was Lord before that—while Aglirta had no king, and barons and
brigands alike did as they pleased. We did what we had to do, for our people, and asked no one for 'royal
permission' about anything. So now, before you demand that I plead and crawl before your throne, King of
Aglirta, tell me this: just what do I, and the good people of Helvand who stand behind me, gain from having
someone sitting on the River Throne again? What good is a king to me?"
Those last words echoed around a room that had otherwise fallen utterly silent. The tense silence of
warriors waiting, with hands near sword hilts, for battle soon to come. A young boy among them—a boy
with jet-black eyes, now grown large and awed—seemed to be trembling on the edge of tears.
All eyes were on the king, watching and waiting. Kelgrael Snowsar slowly raised himself to his full
height, towering over the tersept a step below him—the Lord of Helvand who'd drawn back one wary
pace, but who now stood with his hand at his own belt... on the pommel of the long knife scabbarded there.
Ready for a fight.
The king smiled into the heavy, deepening silence, and said, "You ask a very good question, Ulgund of
Helvand: what good is a king to the folk of Aglirta now? This is a question the entire realm deserves an
answer to—but you ask it of the wrong man. I am king, as I was king before the grandsire you speak of
was tersept over Helvand—"
The Risen King gave the young tersept a look that had quiet steel in it before he lifted his eyes to gaze
around the throne room.
"—and my answer can't be seen, by most of you, as anything better than self-serving. You are the
proper folk to answer this ... for who better than the people of Aglirta to say what good a king is to them
now?"
He set the Scepter of Aglirta in the crook of his arm and strode to the edge of the throne dais, arms
crossed, to stand looking down on them all, as tall and menacing as a drawn sword. "Wherefore you shall
have your time to think on this, from now until the turning of the year. At that time a recor-onation shall be
held in this chamber. I hope that all Aglirtans who've thought about it, and decided they do need a king, will
attend. On that day I shall expect all barons and tersepts of the realm to swear fresh oaths of fealty to me.
Those who choose not to, or choose not to attend, may well be replaced."
King Snowsar let his calm, level gaze travel slowly from face to face among the throngs of
dumbfounded courtiers, and added, "Of course, if sufficient Aglirtans of rank choose to stand against me
rather than to reaf-firm their loyalties to the rightful king, it shall be my duty, for the good of the realm, to
both stand aside from the River Throne—and to name my suc-cessor. To do anything else would be to
plunge fair Aglirta into war. Those who would have no king, or no king of my choosing, would do well to
think on this last point, and decide how well they could defend the realm if they cast it forth into the hazard
of lawlessness. Or rather, the wild 'law' of barons, brigands, and wizards that arose during my long
slumber."
What might have been the beginnings of a smile tugged at one corner of the king's mouth as he looked
around his royal court. The same busily whispering men whose soft tongues and heartless schemings had so
beset him with intrigues were—for just a few moments more, he was sure—united in their stunned silence.
He had surprised—shocked—everyone.
One of the two tersepts who stood closest to the throne stirred, opened his mouth as if to say something,
and then fell silent again, a puzzled frown large upon his features.
"Yes, Pelard of Yarsimbra?" King Snowsar asked gently, letting a real smile onto his face for the first
time.
 As the courtier shook his head, not able to frame the words that would be politic amid his racing
thoughts, the smile on the face of the Risen King grew and grew, until it shone as brightly as any of the