"David Weber & Linda Evans - Hells Gate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weber David)

he'd discovered that he'd made exactly the right choice when he enlisted.
But tonight, he felt the vast emptiness of a planet not yet home to man stretching out around him in all
directions, sucking at his soul like a vacuum as he knelt here in this fragile bubble of firelight, watching the
heir to the imperial crown in the grip of a precognitive Glimpse of terrifying power.
Gods, the chief-armsman thought. Gods, I wish we'd never left Fort Raylthar!
But they had, and there was nothing he could do but wait until Prince Janaki woke back up and told
them what vision had seized him by the throat.
Well, wait and pray.
The next morning dawned clear and considerably chillier. There was frost on their bedrolls, and
Jasak found it difficult to radiate a sense of lighthearted adventure as he dragged himself out of his
sleeping bag's seductive warmth. Magister Kelbryan, on the other hand, looked almost disgustingly
cheerful. She'd taken being the only woman in the expedition in stride, but Jasak had unobtrusively seen
to it that her sleeping bag was close to his. Not because he distrusted his men—the Second Andarans
were an elite outfit, proud of their reputation—but because his father's maxim that it was always easier to
prevent problems than to solve them had been programmed into him at an almost instinctual level.
And, he admitted cheerfully as he watched her rolling her bag as tightly as any of his troopers,
because he enjoyed her company. It was even more enjoyable talking with her than looking at her, and
that was saying quite a bit.
He chuckled, shaking his head in self-reproving amusement, but then his humor faded a bit as he
listened to Fifty Garlath issuing his morning orders.
His "discussion" with Garlath the evening before had been even more unpleasant than he'd
anticipated. The fifty had always resented Jasak. Everyone in the Second Andarans—and in the entire
Arcanan Army, for that matter—knew Sir Jasak Olderhan was the only son of Commander of Five
Thousand Sir Thankhar Olderhan, Arcanan Army, retired. Who also happened to be His Grace Sir
Thankhar Olderhan, Governor of High Hathak, Duke of Garth Showma, Earl of Yar Khom, and Baron
Sarkhala . . . and more to the point, perhaps, the man who had commanded the Second Andaran Scout
Brigade for over fourteen years before his medical retirement. The Second Andarans were, for all intents
and purposes, an hereditary command of the Dukes of Garth Showma, and had been for almost a
hundred and seventy years. In fact, they had originally been raised as "The Duke of Garth Showma's
Own Rangers."
All of which meant that although Jasak might on paper be only one of the brigade's twelve company
commanders, he was actually a little more equal than any of the others. Jasak himself had always known
that, and the knowledge had driven him to demonstrate that he deserved the preferential treatment an
accident of birth had bestowed upon him. Unfortunately, not everyone recognized that, and the Arcanan
Army's tradition, particularly in its Andaran units, was for officers and noncoms to remain within their
original brigade or division for their entire careers. It produced a powerful sense of unit identification and
was an undoubted morale enhancer, but it could also enhance petty resentments and hostilities. Family
quarrels, after all, are almost always nastier than quarrels between strangers.
Shevan Garlath remembered the day a skinny, gawky young Squire Olderhan, fresh out of the
Academy, had reported for duty. Shevan Garlath had been a commander of fifty then . . . and he still
was. Barring a miracle or the direct intervention of the gods themselves, and despite the fact that he was
the younger cousin of a baron, he would still be a commander of fifty when he reached mandatory
retirement age. Not even his aristocratic cousin possessed the pull to get someone of his demonstrated
inability promoted any higher than that. But since he wasn't prepared to admit that it was because of his
own feckless incompetence, it had to be because other people—people like then-Squire and
now-Commander of One Hundred Olderhan—had stolen the promotions he deserved because their
connections were even loftier then his own.
He'd listened to Jasak expressionlessly, without saying a word . . . and certainly without ever
acknowledging that a single one of the Jasak's tactful criticisms or suggestions was merited. Jasak had
wanted to strangle him, but he'd been forced to admit that it was his own fault. He ought to have jerked