"Legacy Of Gird - 01 - Surrender None" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

successful birth. Not a monster, a manchild whole of limb and healthy. Perhaps
this one would inherit the birthright magic… perhaps.
Behind, in the birthing room, the midwife glowered at the glowing patch of air,
and sketched her own gesture, tossing a handful of herbs at it. It hung there
still, hardly fading. The new mother grunted, and the midwife returned to her
work, ignoring the light she was determined not to need. She had the healing
hands, a legacy of a great-grandmother’s indiscretion in the days when such
indiscretions meant a quick marriage to some handy serf. She hardly believed the
change, and having a priest of Esea in the birthing room convinced her only that
the high lords had no decency.
In the lord’s hall, the infant’s future was quickly determined. His mother could
be his nurse, but his rearing would be that of a young lord, until his ability
or lack of it appeared.
The boy showed a quick intelligence, a lively curiosity; he learned easily and
could form the elegant script of Old Aare by the time he had seen six midwinter
festivals. He had no peasant accent; he had no lack of manners or bodily grace.
He also had no magic, and when the lord lost hope that he might show a useful
trace of it, he found the boy a foster family in one of his villages, and sent
him away.
It could have been worse. His lord provided: the family prospered, and the
youth, as he grew to be, had no trouble finding a wife. He would inherit a
farmstead, he was told, and in due time he had his own farm. With his father’s
gifts, he started well above the average, and as well he had the position of a
market judge in the nearest town. It was not enough to live on, but it
supplemented his farm’s production. He knew he was well off, and shrugged away
the hopes he’d once had of being adopted into the lord’s family. Yet he could
not forget his parentage, or the promise of magic.

In the year of his birth, and far away, the boy already lived who would make his
parentage worthless.



Chapter One
« ^ »
“You’re big enough now,” said the boy’s mother. “You don’t need to be hanging on
my skirts any more. You’re bold enough when it’s something you want to do.” As
she spoke, she raked at the boy’s thick unruly hair with her fingers, and wiped
a smudge of soot from his cheek. “You take that basket to the lord’s steward,
now, and be quick about it. Are you a big boy, or only a baby, then?”
“I’m big,” he said, frowning. “I’m not scared.” His mother flicked her apron
over his shirt again, and landed a hand on his backside.
“Then get on with you. You’re to be home right away, Gird, mind that. No playing
about with the other lads and lasses. There’s work to be done, boy.”
“I know.” With a grunt, he lifted the basket, almost hip-high, and leaned
sideways to balance the weight; it was piled high with plums, the best from
their tree. He could almost taste one, the sweet juice running down his throat…
“And don’t you be eating any of those, Gird. Not even one. Your Da would skin
you for it.”
“I won’t.” He started up the lane, walking cantways from the weight, but