"Charles Ingrid - The Sand Wars 06 - Challenge Met" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ingrid Charles)

Thraks." With a tight smile, she turned and left. There were things to do
before she could end her vigil.

The Thraks had been replaced by an honor guard of Knights when she
returned. She eyed them as she entered the medical wing corridor, her
attention caught by their gleaming armor of many different colors. Jack's
own white armor was so white it was iridescent even though it had been
damaged over the years. A sudden sense of loss hit her, and she felt a
fluttering inside her throat, a panicky, tickling surge as she wondered if it or
Colin could ever be found.

The guard parted, exposing Vandover Baadluster. He had given up his
somber black robes for those of charcoal… a slight, psychological change
and one which she pondered as he inclined his head to her.

"Milady Amber."

"Minister," she answered. Triumph flooded her abruptly and, though she
felt her face warm with its intensity, she savored it. She had managed to
deal with him without Jack's presence, but the knowledge that Jack would
soon be able to back her up made her stronger.

Vandover's flat eyes glinted slightly as if guessing her emotion and her
triumph turned swiftly to anger. Anger she could deal with. She let her
words stay in her throat. She would not lose her advantage by throwing it
away.

"We've been waiting," Vandover said. "I was most surprised to arrive
here and find you missing. But then, the nurse told me he had spoken with
you. You look well."

Amber put her chin up. She was tall, but the Minister of War was taller.
"Thank you. When can I see him?"

"Now… if you're ready."

She hesitated. Thoughts flooded her, too many to pin down. Jack had his
victory, at last. What would it mean to him? To them? Where was he now?
Why wasn't he striding out to meet her?

"Milady?" Vandover prompted softly.

"Of course." She stepped through the aisle formed by the honor guard,
followed by Baadluster, the fabric of his long overtunic whispering with his
lumbering gait. She barely heard the noise, yet it brought a sense of
foreboding as though a legion whispered evil of Pepys' minister. An omen,
she thought as they entered the interior lab, and one which I don't need.

He sat with his back to them, wearing a clean white jumpsuit which
echoed the pallor of his convalescence. She crossed the portal and came to a