"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 05 - A Time Of Exile" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

The gwerbret burst out laughing, waving for them to rise and take their seats again.

“I take it you’ve never seen me before, good merchant. I’ve ruled here for thirty years, and I’m four and
fifty years old. I’m not having a jest on you, either.” Absently he looked away, and suddenly his eyes
turned dark with a peculiar sadness. “Oh, no jest at all.”

Londalo forgot his protocol enough to stare. Not a trace of gray in the gwerbret’s hair, not one true line
in his face—how could he be a man of fifty-four, old back home, ancient indeed for a barbarian warrior?
Then the gwerbret turned back to him with a sunny smile.

“But that’s of no consequence. What brings you to me, good sir?”

Londalo cleared his throat to prepare for the important matter of trading Eldidd grain for Bardekian
luxuries. Just as he was about to speak, Rhodry leaned forward to stare.

“By the gods, is that a silver dagger you’re carrying? It looks like the usual knobbed pommel.”
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“Well, it is, Your Grace.” Mentally Londalo cursed himself all over again for bringing the wretched thing
along. “I bought it in the islands many years ago, you see, and I keep it with me because . . . well, it’s
rather a long story . . . ”

“In the islands? May I see it, good merchant, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Why, no trouble at all, Your Grace.”

Rhodry took it, stared for a long moment at the falcon device engraved on the blade, and burst out
laughing.

“Do you realize that this used to be mine? Years and years ago? It was stolen from me when I was in the
islands.”

“What? Really? Why, then, Your Grace absolutely must have it back! I insist, truly I do.”



Later that afternoon, once the treaty was signed and merchant on his way, the great hall of Aberwyn fell
quiet as the warband went off to exercise their horses. Although normally Rhodry would have gone with
them, he lingered at the table of honor and considered the odd twist of luck, the strange coincidence, as
he thought of it, that had brought his silver dagger home to him. A few serving lasses wandered around,
wiping down tables with rags; a few stable hands sat near the open door and diced for coppers; a few
dogs lay in the straw on the floor and snored. In a bit, his eldest son came down to join him. It was hard
to believe that the lad was fully grown, with two sons of his own now and the Dun Gwerbyn demesne in
his hands. Rhodry could remember how happy he’d been when his first heir was born, how much he’d
loved the little lad, and how much Cullyn had loved him. It hurt, now, thinking that his firstborn was
beginning to hate him, and all because his father refused to age and die. Not that Cullyn ever said a word,
mind; it was just that a coolness was growing between them, and every now and then Rhodry would