"Mercedes Lackey - Brightly Burning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

Lavan Chitward hated his mother’s parties at the best of times, and this one was no exception.
When the Guildmaster of the Cloth Merchants’ Guild beckoned to him, he unconsciously hunched his
shoulders, assuming he was about to receive yet another homily on hard work, his third for this particular
party.
“Here you go, lad,” the Guildmaster said, shoving a parcel at him.
Lan gaped at the squarish package in the Guildmaster’s hands as the babble of partygoers rattled
on around him. Words stuck in Lavan’s throat, uncomfortable and sharp-edged. Oh, gods. Now what
am I supposed to say? He was already nervous enough before this guest of his parents singled him out;
this only made him more self-conscious. Lavan flushed, forehead sweating, and could only stare at the
so-called “present” that middle-aged, red-faced Guildmaster Howell was holding out to him, and tried to
think of a response. Any response. Well, maybe not any response; if he said what he really thought, his
father would skin him.
“Uh-this is-you really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, Guildmaster,” he managed, his
stomach churning, as the older man thrust the package at him with hands from which traces of dye would
never disappear as long as he lived. The skin was faintly blue, but the nail bed was indigo, giving Lan the
unsettling impression he was taking a package from a corpse. The Guildmaster shoved the packet into
Lavan’s reluctant fingers and let it go, forcing Lan to take it or let it fall. And much as he would have liked
to let it fall, he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he did. He fumbled for it and tried not to
show how little he wanted it.
His hands closed around it convulsively, and the cloth package fell open, revealing a set of
cloth-merchant’s tools. There was a lens for examining fabric closely, a rule to determine thread count, a
small pair of scissors, other things-exactly what he’d dreaded seeing.
“It was no trouble, no trouble at all!” the Guildmaster said heartily, the corners of his eyes
wrinkling as he smiled. “I’ve outfitted six of my own youngsters for the cloth trade, after all, and I can’t
think how many others I’m not even related to!” He clapped Lavan heartily on the back, and Lan tried
not to wince. “I’ll be seeing you in and around the Guildhouse before too long, I’ll warrant! Just like your
big brother!”
“Ah-” Lavan mumbled something and ducked his head, his hair dampening with nervous
perspiration; as he’d hoped, the Guildmaster took his reluctance for shyness, and clapped him on the
back again, though a bit gentler this time.
The Guildmaster moved on then, to socialize with the adults, sparing Lavan the task of trying to
thank him for a gift the young man didn’t in the least want. A quick glance around the crowd in the
drawing room showed him that no one was paying any attention to him at the moment, so he hastily rolled
up the bundle of tools and shoved it under the cushions on a settle. With any luck, it wouldn’t be found
until morning, and the servants would assume it belonged to Lan’s older brother. He rubbed his damp
palms against the legs of his trews and straightened, looking about him. What would Lavan do with a
bundle of cloth-merchant’s tools, anyway? He didn’t know what half of them were used for!
Nothing, that’s what. And I don’t want to either. I don’t want to do anything with cloth but wear
it.
In fact, he intended to escape from this gathering as soon as he dared. All of the first-floor rooms
of this town house were packed with his parents’ guests, all of them important, none of them younger
than thirty. It was too hot, too claustrophobic, too loud; the cacophony of voices made his ears ring. The
house seemed half its size and it wasn’t all that big in the first place, compared with the house Lan thought
of as “home,” back in Alderscroft. This party wasn’t intended to entertain anybody under the age of
twenty, anyway, even though the stated reason for it was for the members of the Needleworkers’ and
Cloth Merchants’ Guilds to welcome the whole family to Haven. Lan’s mother Nelda and his father
Archer were already well known to the members of their Guilds. In spite of living in a village a hundred
leagues from Haven, their successes had brought them to the attention of nearly everyone in both Guilds
in the capital long before this move. This gathering was supposed to be an opportunity for their children
to mix and mingle with the real powers in their parents’ Guilds, and hopefully to attract the attention of a