"Holly Lisle - Bard's Tale 08 - Curse of the Black Heron" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lisle Holly)

Curse of the Black Heron
Bard's Tale 08
by Holly Lisle
Copyright 1998




some minor fixing done, needs lots more work




Chapter One
I remember the beginning of the end of my world clearly, but not for the
reasons anyone would usually associate with remembering such a day. Early
morning dragged me from my bed, and the voice of the herald from the
capital drew me out of Birdie's cool house into the town square of Blackwarren
and into the already-sticky heat of the early summer day, where I stood
beside my friend, Giraud dar Falcannes, and listened to the latest news from
the city, shouted by a lovely young herald backed up by a contingent of
cold-eyed enforcers.
"In this the Century of the Constellation Baragar the Hunter, in the year of
Ten Firehawk and the season of Merroell, on the fifth day of the month of
Tassetti, which We rename Varelle in our honor, We-Varelle dar Kothia
Surdosti-declare that Salgestis Dargoman the Usurper has been cast down,
and executed, and that We have lifted his head on a pike in Greffon's Great
Square as proof and testament of Our intentions to all such usurpers." The
herald sat astride her black horse, dressed all in royal red and empire blue,
with a crest on her tabard that I'd never seen and a weighted scroll in her
hands that gleamed at the edges with the sheen of real gold. She glared down
at all of us who stood listening to her decree, daring us to dispute her.
I leaned over and whispered to Giraud, "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but
wasn't Salgestis the rightful king? And isn't Varelle dar Kothia Surdosti the
usurper?"
Giraud grinned at me. "Mmm. Well, she was until she won," he whispered
back, "but it would be awfully impolitic of us to remember that now, wouldn't
it? And possibly hard on our necks, Isbetta. Never forget that the winners get
to call the losers anything they want."
The herald spelled out Varelle dar Kothia Surdosti's decrees to us-that she
would be empress, titled Gloriana Majeste of all the lands of Terosalle; that
her capital city would be Greffon; that she would give pardon and favor to all
who acknowledged her as empress and would execute those who did not, and
with them their every relation through ten generations; and so on, and so on.
The herald's reading made for an impressive decree, but I must confess that
discovering I had a new ruler in Greffon interested me less than discovering I
owned a new sheep would have. The fact is, I was about to graduate to
journeyman status and be admitted to the Weavers' Guild, and my foster
mother would, upon my graduation, owe me a sheep as a gift-the first of what
I hoped to turn into an impressive weaver's flock. The sheep was both symbol