"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 11 - The Fire Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

back?’

‘He did.’ Owaen could barely force the words out. ‘Just that.’

Branoic tossed back his head and howled with laughter. With one
smooth curve of his body Owaen turned and hit him so hard in the
stomach that Branoic doubled over. Maddyn grabbed Owaen’s arm, but he
could hold him for only a bnef moment — just long enough for Branoic to
get his wind back.

‘You bastard!’ Branoic snarled.

Owaen shook Maddyn off and charged. Branoic met him with the slap
of one huge hand, then swung on him with the other. Screaming curses
Owaen grabbed his shirt with both hands and shook him like a rat whilst
Branoic pounded on his enemy’s back. For a moment they swayed back
and forth like drunken men; then Owaen tripped, and they both fell.
Clasped in each other’s arms they rolled around on the cobbles while they
swore and kicked and punched each other. All Maddyn could do was
dance around them and try to make himself heard.

‘Stop it!’ Maddyn was screaming. ‘Not in front of the princess! You
cursed hounds, stop it!’

‘Here!’ It was Nevyn, running with all the speed and grace of a young
man. ‘What - by Lord of Hell!’

Nevyn flung up one hand, then snapped it down with the gesture of a
man throwing dice. Silvery-blue flames shot from his fingers and struck
the cobbles with a crack like thunder and a burst of light. With a yelp the
two wrestlers broke their holds and rolled a little way apart. Owaen sat up,
rubbing his right eye which was swelling shut. Maddyn darted forward
and grabbed Branoic to keep him off his prey, but Branoic made no
objection. He sat up, rested briefly, then got up and stood rubbing his
bloody, bruised knuckles while he panted for breath. Owaen scrambled up
after him. Dirt and muck smeared their white shirts and the rest of them as
well.
 ‘There,’ Nevyn said mildly. ‘That’s better. Now what’s all this?’

‘Prince Maryn gave Branoic his grant of land and letters patent today,
Maddyn said. ‘He gave Branoic the right to use eagles for his blazon.’

‘And?’ Nevyn said. ‘Oh wait. The feud. Ye gods, lads! When did it
start? Over ten years ago at least!’

Branoic nodded, staring at the ground. Owaen started to speak, then
suddenly turned to Bellyra and knelt. Blood ran down his cheeks. His face
was so pale that it reminded her of a fish’s belly.

‘My apologies, your highness,’ Owaen stammered. ‘For losing my