Mel Keegan The Lords of Harbendane d

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.In the companionable darkness, the congregation shuffled out.A bellchimed from the hall, where the tables were laid for dinner.Rogan had noappetite, but he and Tristan sat with Damiel s group, picking over a bowlof fruit while they talked in sporadic undertones of inconsequential things. It was Shevan who broke up the assembly an hour later. The stewardswill be knocking at three of the morning.If anyone wants to get some rest,now would be the time.He was right, and Damiel was the first to push back her chair. Amadeus tells me there s no more to be done.The magicks are set and willbe checked at first light.You might want to be there, Rogue. I do, Rogan said gravely.He gave Tristan the wraith of a smile. You ll know the magicks, the secrets of Althea, when you see them.Patience.Tristan spread his hands in exasperation. As if I had a choice! Will werest, then? There s plenty of work to be done, if you can t settle. I can settle, even if I know I won t sleep, Rogan said darkly. Tillmorning, Damia, Morgan.Will you be at the bridge, Shevan, when Amade-us checks the magicks? Of course. Shevan s face was like granite in the lamplight. This isone show I wouldn t miss for anything in the world. He hung an armacross Talesyn s shoulders, and was looking at Rogan as he said, Comewith me, Tal.There s something we should talk about, you and I.andthere s no time for it like the night before battle. What? Why? Talesyn wore a blank expression, probably wonderingwhat he was talking about. Because we might not get another chance, Shevan said bluntly. Tillmorning, ricon. He steered Talesyn away, and took a flask of wine fromthe stewards end of the table as they passed by.The apartment was quiet.The hearth was alight, the air was warm.Thewindows were open a crack to the night air, and a blackbird was singingon a nearby rooftop.Rogan stood at the window, looking out over the city,while Tristan turned down the bed and threw his shirt onto a chair.Cool, slender arms went around him, and he tucked Tristan againsthim, rested his head on the soft ebony hair. Magicks, he whispered,almost to himself. Magicks for Althea. You still won t tell me the secret? Tristan murmured against hisneck, kissing him there. In the morning you ll just know, Rogan promised. Then come to bed, Tris coaxed, to rest, if not to sleep.They were words Rogan could never resist.The sun was an hour away.The sky was steel gray and filled with faintstars when the gate mechanism thundered.The great chains rattledthrough the blocks with a roar like the snarl of a dragon.Once, in the riverport of Lochrain, Rogan had seen the chains anchoring big ships in thechannel, and they were no more stout than those that lifted Althea s citygates.Eight cohorts had formed up.Their battle colors caught the morningwind and billowed like sails.The kitchen chimneys were belching acrid,gray hearthsmoke which was borne down by the wind, and his eyes stung.Beside him, Tristan wore the mail, shield and helmet with a pride Roganadmired.Talesyn and Robin Armes were similarly outfitted they wouldnot fight today, but no one was completely safe.Damiel would allow norisks.She was up on the big, black stallion, Taracas, and he was annoyed tobe saddled and armored so early.He tossed his head, snatched at the bit,as Damiel wrestled him around and shouted, Amadeus! Where s Amade-us? Here, the shaman called against the wind.He was in the masteralchemist s gray robe and a cloak the color of malachite, mounted on adapple-flanked gelding.He wore no armor, and scorned it.He had already looked into theblack mirror and Seen his fate.Rogan was unsure if the scryer s art wasenviable.He saw danger in it, and would never have trusted himself withthe skill.Amadeus came up the length of the column and reined backbeside Damiel.Shevan s cohort, and Morgan s, snaked away behind them,and then the warbands from Corry and Felden, and the militias of Althea,Lochrain, and Coepen Highdale.At the head of the whole company the Thered in standard fluttered inthe rising wind.The bells chimed the final call and Damiel touched herheels to the sides of the warhorse she had ridden for many years.Rogan sheart thudded as they moved off, for here, now, was the last of Althea sbattles.Doom or glory, the city would stand or fall on this morning.The east brightened steadily as the company rode down to the bridge,but the warbells fell silent.When the enemy was sighted they would ringout again, giving a warning of minutes.The patchwork fields were empty.Farmers, shepherds, their families and livestock had all been taken west,beyond the city walls.The countryside was eerily deserted.Fifty yards short of the bridge, the company came to a halt but Ama-deus rode on.On the very lip of the gorge were a group of acolytes andmasters one of them was Imogen of Raman herself.The big gray geldingjoined them, and Amadeus kicked out of the stirrups [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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