"Recluce - 09 - Colors Of Chaos" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

   "A very junior mage among many." Cerryl bowed in return.
   "He's got a sense of place, Daughter! Maybe too modest for the Halls,
from all I've seen."
   "He is modest."
   "We should be eating. Meridis will be letting me know for days that I
let the food suffer." Layel gestured and then let Leyladin lead the way
out of the study and through the archway she and Cerryl had not taken on
the way to the study.
   "What are we having?" asked the blonde as they entered a small dining
hall.
   The dining hall was small only comparatively, thought Cerryl. While
three places were set at one end, the long white golden table could have
easily seated twenty. Each chair around the table was of the white golden
oak, and each was upholstered in the dark green velvet. The pale white
china sat upon place mats of light green linen, and matching linen
napkins were set in holders beside the silver utensils flanking the
china. Fluted crystal goblets were set by each plate.
   "Your favorite," answered Layel, "the orange beef with the pearapple
noodles."
   Orange beef? Pearapple noodles? Pearapples had been scarce enough in
Cerryl's childhood, and to be savored on those few occasions when Uncle
Syodor or Aunt Nail had produced one. Now Cerryl was about to have
noodles made from them-as if they were as common as flour!
   "I broke out some of the white wine from Linspros." Layel glanced at
his daughter. "I needed some excuse for something that good. Couldn't
very well drink it by myself."
   The trader sat at the head, with Cerryl and Leyladin at each side,
facing each other across the end of the table. No sooner had the three
seated themselves than a gray-haired woman in the same type of blue
overtunic that Soaris was wearing appeared with two large platters of the
same fine white china, then scurried out and returned with two more.
   Cerryl glanced across the offerings-thin cuts of beef interspersed
with thinly sliced oranges and green leaves and covered with an orange
glaze; fine white noodles; long green beans with nuts and butter; and
dark bread.
   Layel served himself the beef and noodles. After he had finished,
Leyladin nodded at Cerryl. "Please."
   "Can't say that, outside of the white, I'd be taking you for a mage."
Layel took the big glass bottle and poured the clear wine into the three
crystal goblets one after another.
   Wine from glass bottles-another luxury Cerryl had heard about but
never seen. "I know. I look more like a scrivener. I was once, an
apprentice scrivener."
   "Now that's something I don't know much about." Layel laughed. "Books,
you can't buy 'em cheap. So I don't. Means I don't sell them, either.
Don't have time to read them." He lifted his goblet. "To friends,
daughters, and companions."
   Cerryl followed their example but took only the smallest sip of the
wine. Even with that sip, with the hint of bubbliness and the lemon-nut
freshness, he could feel that it was far stronger than anything he'd ever