"Julian May - Trillium 3 - Sky Trillium" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

but the stratagem had seemed necessary. Ruwenda Citadel's ancient stones were
themselves permeated with magic, and sacred Black Trillium blossoms bloomed
everywhere now on the knoll, thriving beneath the light of the Three Moons.
Worst of all, his other aunt—the formidable Archimage Haramis—had taken to
visiting his mother too often here in the Summer Capital, which was their
childhood home. Tolivar could not risk the White Lady discovering his secret, so
he had found a place away in the swamp to hide the precious things.

No one would take them from him. Not ever.

"They are mine by right of salvage," he reassured himself. "Even if I am only
twelve years old and still unable to make use of them fully, I will die rather than
give them up."

The unwelcome thought stole again into his mind that he might very well perish
tonight, drowned in the surging black river.

"Then so be it," he muttered, "for if I leave the treasure behind in Ruwenda
during the rains, it might be swept away in a great tempest. Or it could be buried
in mud before we return next spring, or even found by some stray Oddling and
handed over to the White Lady. Then I would have nothing to live for."

If only the Wet Time had not come so inconveniently early this year! But Aunt
Haramis had said that the world was badly out of balance, and the strange
weather reflected it, as did the restlessness of the volcanoes and the increasing
number of earthquakes.

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Trillium 03 - Sky Trillium by Julian May (v1.0) (html).html




The River Mutar, which skirted Citadel Knoll, had surged to flood stage almost
without warning. King Antar and Queen Anigel had decided that the Court of the
Two Thrones dared not wait until the end of the month to adjourn to the Winter
Capital of Derorguila in Labornok. Instead, the royal entourage must depart
within six days, before the mire waters rose too high.

Prince Tolivar, the youngest of the royal family, had reacted to the
announcement with panic. So long as the storms continued, the Mutar's current
would be too strong for him to paddle upstream alone in the skiff he kept hidden
for his secret excursions. He had prayed both to the Holy Flower and to the Dark
Powers who aided wizards, begging for just a few dry days and a respite in the
flood. But the entreaties were in vain. The time of the royal retinue's departure
drew closer and closer until now there were only two days left. Tomorrow the
caravan would begin to form. In daylight he would not be able to sneak out of
the Citadel without being seen. He had to get the treasure tonight, or leave it
behind.