"Holly Lisle - Secret Texts 2 - Vengeance Of Dragons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lisle Holly)

“But if you’d failed,” she interrupted, “youwouldn’t be standing here right now, expecting to be
paid. Ialready know my son is alive. That humiliating scene Crispinorchestrated proved that
clearly enough. I just want to know therest of the story.”

“W-w-well . . . yes . . . but I wantedyou to know how hard — ”

“Your personal difficulties don’t interest me. Yourresults do. I pay you for the results, and for the
costs you incurin getting them. If you want to be paid for the dramatic way youtell your story, I
suggest you change to a different line ofwork.”

She felt him flush — from humiliation at being spoken tothus, and from having to take it, and
finally from anger at beingdenied telling his tale the way he chose. She sensed in himfrustration,
too. He had no doubt expected her to offer him a bonuswhen she heard how much work he’d had
to do to bring her hisfindings.

She smiled, and felt him recoil. That amused her, too. Shewished she could see what she had
become in the wake of thedisaster. She could guess from touching her face and from thereactions
of others that little of the human was left of her. Shesupposed she had become hideous, but she
could not see her ownreflection — in her mind she was still as beautiful as she hadbeen the day
she lost the last of her sight. She didn’t mindbeing hideous. Being beautiful had worked for her,
but that wasgone. She had discovered, however, that terror peeled as muchcooperation out of
people as beauty ever had.

He said, “Yes. Of course. I cannot verify names — thepeople I have located were careful to keep
their names from anyrecords. Or from even having them spoken. Ironically, it was thatcare which
finally allowed me to find them.

“On the night your son disappeared and was presumedmurdered, five young men spent the better
part of the stations ofDard and Telt in a dockside tavern called The Fire-eater’sEase, passing the
time drinking, playing hawks and hounds, anddicing and betting at fortuna. They were obviously
of the upperclasses — four wore swords prominently displayed and the fifthwore two long
daggers. All dressed well. From eyewitness accounts,I have that one was tall and slender with
blond hair and scars onhis face; he was reported as being a boaster and a dandy, dressedentirely
in silk. Another, somewhat shorter, wore brown hair pulledback in a long braid, and seemed to
those who saw him to be quiet.Thoughtful. A doxy who works there says she sat on his lap
andtried to talk him into going upstairs with her, but he refused eventhough he was interested.
She says he said he was waiting for afriend, and that when the friend arrived, he would have to be
readyto leave immediately. He refused to tell her anything about thefriend or where he had to go
— refused so adamantly that sheremembered him. He called himself Parat Beyjer.”

“Parat Beyjer, eh?” Imogene chuckled, delighted inspite of herself. “Parat Beyjer? And tell me,
were hisfriends named Soin, Gyjer, Torhet, and, perhaps . . .Farge?”

She’d shocked him. “How did you know? I mean,none of them was named Torhet, but there was
a Gyjer. A Farge, too.Another was named Rubjyat.”

“The boys had classical educations. Beyjer was the‘god of green’ in the classical mythos of
ancient Ibera,when Ibera was still called Veys Traroin and included much of whatis now Strithia,
back when it was a member nation of the Empire ofKasree. Gyjer was the ‘god of purple’ in the
same mythos.Farge was the ‘god of blue,’ and Rubjyat the ‘god ofno color’ — I wouldn’t have