JК
The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 56 из 212"
Andris settled down, certain that he would never find slumber with such a task before him, but the evensong of elves spoke to him as wizardry magic could not. It stole into his blood, into his soul, soothing and calming him in a manner he had never dreamed possible.
Andris wondered about elven reverie and wistfully coveted the vivid, waking dreams that were said to be more refreshing than sleep. Perhaps here, in this place, he might share some of that fey peace.
When he slept, though, his dreams were not of peace. And when the morning came, the plan he lay before Kiva made her eyes burn with golden fire.
Chapter Seven
The distant spires of Azuth's Temple rose against the sunset clouds as Matteo and his friends emerged from the forested pass.
"A little dove's flying this way," Themo observed, nodding toward the small gray figure that ran toward the jordaini, arms and legs pumping steadily. "Making good time, too."
"Must be important if it couldn't wait a few more hours," added Iago.
Matteo nodded and shook the reins over his lizard mount. The others followed suit. They hurried to meet the runner-a barefoot and barelegged girl, clad in a short tunic of Azuthan gray. She dipped into a bow and then handed Matteo a scroll. "I am to wait for your reply, my lord."
"Just Matteo," he corrected absently as he broke the seal. "The jordaini claim no titles."
"As you wish," the girl murmured politely.
"It's not as I wish," Themo put in, only half in jest "What do you say, Iago? What title would suit me? Themo the war baron? Themo the king's general?"
"Themo the horse's arse," Iago suggested.
Themo snorted and reached out to punch Matteo's shoulder. "Well, are you going to tell us what's worth wearing out this lass's pretty feet, or do you want us to guess?"
Matteo glanced up at his two friends. "A message from the queen's steward. He is concerned about Queen Beatrix and requires my presence at once."
"Your response?" the acolyte prompted.
"There can be only one. I will leave for Halarahh at first light."
"I will accompany you," suggested Iago.
"And I!" put in Themo stoutly. He slapped the reins against his lizard's neck, as if he would ride all the way. The great creature's shoulders rose and fell in an astonishingly human gesture of resignation.
Matteo reached out and dropped a hand on the big jordain’s shoulder. "I would have you, and gladly, but your training is not yet complete."
"Training!" grumbled Themo. "My head holds all the information that's ever likely to fit.
Andris settled down, certain that he would never find slumber with such a task before him, but the evensong of elves spoke to him as wizardry magic could not. It stole into his blood, into his soul, soothing and calming him in a manner he had never dreamed possible.
Andris wondered about elven reverie and wistfully coveted the vivid, waking dreams that were said to be more refreshing than sleep. Perhaps here, in this place, he might share some of that fey peace.
When he slept, though, his dreams were not of peace. And when the morning came, the plan he lay before Kiva made her eyes burn with golden fire.
Chapter Seven
The distant spires of Azuth's Temple rose against the sunset clouds as Matteo and his friends emerged from the forested pass.
"A little dove's flying this way," Themo observed, nodding toward the small gray figure that ran toward the jordaini, arms and legs pumping steadily. "Making good time, too."
"Must be important if it couldn't wait a few more hours," added Iago.
Matteo nodded and shook the reins over his lizard mount. The others followed suit. They hurried to meet the runner-a barefoot and barelegged girl, clad in a short tunic of Azuthan gray. She dipped into a bow and then handed Matteo a scroll. "I am to wait for your reply, my lord."
"Just Matteo," he corrected absently as he broke the seal. "The jordaini claim no titles."
"As you wish," the girl murmured politely.
"It's not as I wish," Themo put in, only half in jest "What do you say, Iago? What title would suit me? Themo the war baron? Themo the king's general?"
"Themo the horse's arse," Iago suggested.
Themo snorted and reached out to punch Matteo's shoulder. "Well, are you going to tell us what's worth wearing out this lass's pretty feet, or do you want us to guess?"
Matteo glanced up at his two friends. "A message from the queen's steward. He is concerned about Queen Beatrix and requires my presence at once."
"Your response?" the acolyte prompted.
"There can be only one. I will leave for Halarahh at first light."
"I will accompany you," suggested Iago.
"And I!" put in Themo stoutly. He slapped the reins against his lizard's neck, as if he would ride all the way. The great creature's shoulders rose and fell in an astonishingly human gesture of resignation.
Matteo reached out and dropped a hand on the big jordain’s shoulder. "I would have you, and gladly, but your training is not yet complete."
"Training!" grumbled Themo. "My head holds all the information that's ever likely to fit.