"Roger Taylor - Nightfall 2 - Valderen" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

Then, as if in confirmation of Nilsson’s conclusion, Rannick had silently beckoned for his horse and,
without comment, ridden north.

Later, Nilsson had started violently from a troubled sleep to hear, he thought, the distant shrieking howl
of Rannick’s creature. Though whether it had been reality or a lingering remnant of some nightmare, he
could not have said.

And now Rannick had returned.

Nilsson took a slow, silent, very deep breath as Rannick came to a halt in front of him. ‘Lord,’ he said,
bowing slightly.

‘We begin today,’ Rannick replied tersely as he dismounted.

‘Lord?’

But Rannick was walking away from him. Hastily Nilsson turned and strode after him across the
courtyard. What had he missed? As they reached a doorway, Rannick turned and looked squarely at
him. ‘We begin our conquest of this land, Captain,’ he said. ‘I am fully ready now. All opposition has
been ended.’

Opposition? There was more in Rannick’s tone than a reference to the mere quelling of Gryss and the
others. So somethinghad happened yesterday. Yet too, there was a strange exhilaration about Rannick
that Nilsson had not known before. Something else must have happened during the night: something
profound. He asked no questions, however. Time, and silent, watchful awareness, would eventually give
him such answers as he needed. Petty curiosity now might well kill him. ‘As you command, Lord,’ he
replied, as Rannick turned and disappeared into the building.

Thus Rannick’s early cautious steps along what he knew as the golden road of his destiny became a
purposeful and determined march. Having finally had his own way in the matter of the treatment of the
villagers, Rannick seemed content now to leave the day-to-day pursuit of his schemes in Nilsson’s hands
and, beyond a general overseeing of matters, he interfered scarcely at all with detailed plans. Nilsson
however, took few chances, and submitted almost his every intention and the reasons for it to Rannick
for his approval. Increasingly he was finding Rannick difficult to anticipate.

Rannick, though, was learning. Learning more and more about the nature of the men that he now
commanded, not least about their peculiar, savage expertise and how it could best be used to further his
ends. Yet he knew that to speak openly on such matters would be merely to display his ignorance and, in
so doing, diminish his authority.

Fascinating though this learning was however, it was secondary to his avid study of his growing power
and the mastering of the subtleties of its use. For hour upon hour he secluded himself in a room at the top
of the castle’s highest tower, a room which overlooked the woods and peaks to the north as well as the
sweep of the valley southwards. No one knew what arts he practised there but, although nothing had
been said, it was acknowledged that the room was forbidden to all others, on pain of immediate death.
And the light that flickered fitfully from its windows at night was like a baleful eye, surveying not only the
castle yards but the entire valley. More than a few of Nilsson’s men complained that they could feel it
watching them even when they were indoors. ‘Well, be careful what you say and do, then,’ he offered
them, by way of reassurance. ‘And what you think.’
 And too, unannounced, Rannick would take his evil-tempered horse and ride off to the north.