"Moon, Elizabeth - Gird 02 - Liar's Oath E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

Distributed by Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Moon, Elizabeth.
The legacy of gird / Elizabeth Moon. p. cm.
“A Baen Books original”—T.p. verso. ISBN 0-671-87747-X (trade pbk.) 1. Fantastic
fiction, American. I. Title PS3563.0557L4 1996
813'.54—dc20 96-2957
CIP
Printed in the United States of America



Prologue
^ »
The king—Falkieri Amrothlin Artfielan Phelani, once Duke Phelan of Tsaia and now
ruler of Lyonya—sat before the fire, brooding, his fingers tented together
before his face. “I have heirs enough now; my lands are safe. It is time to undo
the damage my folk did long years since. Time to redress old grievances, time to
bring ancient enemies together in peace.”
“Are you sure this is your task?” The woman stood by the fireplace, leaning one
arm on the mantel; it shadowed her face, but the firelight brought out the gleam
of silver in her belt, in the hilt of a dagger at her hip, and glinted from the
crescent symbol of Gird that hung from a thong around her neck. And in shadow or
sun or firelight, nothing dimmed the silver circle on her brow. Paksenarrion,
paladin of Gird, the king’s friend and former soldier.
“I’m sure. My grandmother, that Lady you met, said the present ruin was in part
my fault—I cannot argue. And the original problem, too, comes from my
ancestors.” He gestured to the table behind him, with its litter of scrolls and
books. “The Pargunese, in their rough way, have the right of it: they were free
Seafolk, whom my ancestors sought to enslave—”
“As they had enslaved the Dzordanyans?”
“Perhaps. I don’t know that, but I do know—I am sure—that the Old Aareans routed
the Seafolk from their homes. They came here, to the Honnorgat valley, and
settled the north shore of the river as far up as they could sail or row—and
then found themselves faced with the Aareans again, moving north from Aarenis.”
“A long time ago,” said Paksenarrion, frowning.
“Very long, for humans.” The king smiled briefly. He himself looked no older
than she, though in truth he could have been her father; he had not seemed to
age for a score of years. He would live as long again, or more: his elven
mother’s inheritance. “But when I asked my lady grandmother, she confirmed the
Pargunese account. They sailed upriver; the Tsaians and human Lyonyans came over
the mountains. And a few have memories of complaints made then, and wars begun
then. The Pargunese and Kostandanyans have quarrelled with Tsaians and Lyonyans
as long as any human remembers. And now with Sofi Ganarrion’s heirs loose in
Aarenis, with Fallo and Andressat at odds—”
“Not all that is your fault,” Paksenarrion said. She moved to the chair across
the firelight from him and sat down. “Surely you know that.”
“As I know what is my fault,” he said. “A king must never excuse himself. Gird
would say that.”
“Gird did,” she said wryly, with a grin. “But how will you proceed?”