"Julian May - Boreal Moon 01 - Conqueror's Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)“Good evening to you all, my friends, and thank you for coming. Be at ease, and let there be no idle ceremony.” When they continued to stand motionless and uncertain, he said to file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20document...aar/Julian%20May%20-%20Boreal%20Moon%2001%20-%20Conqueror's%20Moon.html (17 of 243)20-2-2006 21:47:26 Julian, May - Boreal Moon 01 - Conqueror's Moon Vanguard, “Godfather, help me cope with these bottles, which I brought specially from Brent Lodge for this gathering. It’s a brisk new Stippenese vintage from the Niss Valley that will quench our thirst without dulling our wits. Time enough for ardent spirits after you’ve all listened to my proposal and made up your minds about it.” They relaxed then, and there were low-pitched words of greeting to Conrig from the older nobles and diffident nods from the young ones. Cups were drawn from velvet or leather pouches and held out for filling by the prince himself, who called each person by name and made casual talk. Lady Zeandrise had her weathered hand kissed by the royal winebearer and pursed her lips tightly to forestall a smile. Finally Conrig poured into Tanaby’s own simple beaker of waxed honey-wood and let the duke do the honors for him. The prince’s silver cup was lined with gold; a great amethyst formed part of the stem, a talisman against drunkenness… and poison. “A toast,” he said quietly, lifting his drink. “To the good sense of those here present, which must determine whether the plan I propose will be acceptable or die aborning.” “To good sense,” Tanaby echoed, “but also to daring.” He had already been taken into Conrig’s confidence and knew some details of the scheme, but had withheld judgment of its merit pending this consultation with the others. They took their seats in a poorly concealed aura of excitement, with the Prince Heritor seated on the folding chair and the others spread out on either side. Young Baron Kimbolton put more wood on the fire. The sunset was rapidly fading. “Do you like the wine?” Conrig inquired pleasantly. spread around him like a sledge robe. “I would as lief take honest Cathran mead any day over foreign grape-gargle. Still, it does cut the phlegm.” The others roared with laughter. But then bluff Ramscrest asked the prince flat out, “Your Grace, does this plan of yours involve mere punitive strikes against Didion, or would you wage open warfare?” “I intend to mount an invasion,” the prince replied, “and seize Holt Mallburn, and force Achardus to accept the Edict of Sovereignty or have it stuffed down his gullet.” Ramscrest’s face, as homely and full of bristles as that of a boar, broke into a beatific smile. He said, “Oh, yes. Yes indeed!” Some of the others began to exclaim and call out questions, but the penetrating voice of Parlian Beorbrook cut through the clamor like a brazen trumpet. “And what does the King’s Grace think of this brave notion?” They all fell silent. The prince set his cup on the small table before him, rose, and began to pace slowly back and forth in front of the fire. He was five-and-twenty years of age, over six feet tall, well- built, and fine of feature as his father, King Olmigon, had been in his youth; but no one in the room would dispute that Conrig Wincantor far surpassed his sire both in strength of character and in mental acuity. In recent years the king had become capricious and vacillating, prone to following dubious advice from certain favored members of his Privy Council, and shunting important matters aside while he dithered over some triviality. Olmigon had agreed to Conrig’s Edict of Sovereignty proposal only after months of dispute. It was the king who had made the disastrous decision that the royal delegation bearing the Edict to the court of Didion should be small and accompanied only by a token force of warriors; and it was the king, a fine naval tactician in his prime, who had decided that Cathra’s response to the delegation’s slaughter should be a sea blockade rather than a land invasion of the northern kingdom. |
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