"Mercedes Lackey & Larry Dixon - Mage Wars 01 - The Black Gryphon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)seemed that the rumors had fed a packing frenzy. The children that he'd seen before were engaged in
tying blankets and packs, with the help of two kyree tugging with their teeth. He saw adults mending wagon covers and double-checking the wheels of carts. Farther beyond that, a set of soldiers and an Apprentice mage—who looked to be Vikteren, one of Amberdrake's social acquaintances—leveled and tested a hovering-sled. The large sleds floated half a man-height above the ground—although they could be raised higher—and were mainly used for troops' supplies. A few of the kestra'chern, Amberdrake included, had bought one for use in moving their own gear, rather than relying on the army to do so for them. Next to them, the horse-skirmisher he'd cared for earlier—who was moving much more freely than before he'd begun—was keeping a number of her fellow warriors enthralled with some great tale. Or if not great, certainly one that called for a substantial amount of gesturing. Maybe she's talking about me...? That would be good if she was. Let them know I treat the lower ranks as well as I do their commanders. Hidden back behind the cluster of humans, though, was a mere wisp of a gryphon—a fledgling, judging by her size, or a subadult. She—yes, definitely a female—was eavesdropping on whatever it was the horse-skirmisher was saying. How strange. Normally, gryphons simply walked into conversations they wanted to be a part of, invited or not. Then Amberdrake's attention was taken by a flight of messenger-birds winging past, darts of living paint flittering across the sky. Their bounding flight carried them and their messages toward the Tower; with luck, they carried news that the war's hunger was sated for a while. Amberdrake turned back inside, and set about finger weaving feather-shaft-adornments for his next client. It would be so relaxing, for a change. *** Zhaneel, when she arrived, turned out to be the little gryphon he'd seen lurking behind the warriors close to her body. He'd walked out from the back room of the tent with a handful of finger-woven satin cords, and found her in the receiving area, hesitantly nosing around the cushions and boxes. She's never been to a kestra'chern before, I can tell that right now. Nervous, expectant, unsure of herself. He cleared his throat gently, and she started. "Welcome, Zhaneel," he said in a soft but commanding voice. "My name is Amberdrake. I am honored to serve you." He executed the sweeping, graceful bow that customarily accompanied the greeting and ended it down on one knee, so that he would not be looming over her. His receiving robe gathered around him in glossy folds as he knelt, a shimmering contrast to the work clothes underneath it. Her eyes darted across his entire body as he bent forward to touch one of her forelegs, as was also customary. It was in this first touch that an experienced kestra'chern could tell the way the session was going to go. Involuntary reactions mixed with postures and poses, hopeful or desperate projections, all would be caught by a sensitive kestra'chern in good form. One did not have to be an Empath to read body language; that was a skill taught to every kestra'chern during his or her apprenticeship. In this case, the signals were decidedly odd. Zhaneel slicked her feathers down and turned her head until her delicate beak touched the wrist joint of her folded wing. A soft, sibilant voice came from that beak, in as near to a whisper as gryphons could manage. "The Black Grrryphon sssent me to you. You are my kesssstrrra'cherrrn." Then her head dipped and her wings fluttered near her body, spread ever so slightly. "Yes. I am the kestra'chern that will serve you, Zhaneel, as you requested, and as your reward for bravery. I will adorn, comfort, and help you and give you the attentions you may deserve and the insight you may need." Amberdrake raised his other hand and touched the remaining foreleg, reading her physical reactions clearly while another part of his mind reasoned out what to do about it. She's practically seething with sexual tension... definitely worked herself up into a frenzy |
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