S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight
Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «S. Farrell - A Magic of Twilight» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию без сокращений). В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: Фэнтези, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.
- Название:A Magic of Twilight
- Автор:
- Жанр:
- Год:неизвестен
- ISBN:нет данных
- Рейтинг книги:3 / 5. Голосов: 1
-
Избранное:Добавить в избранное
- Отзывы:
-
Ваша оценка:
- 60
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
A Magic of Twilight: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация
Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «A Magic of Twilight»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.
A Magic of Twilight — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком
Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «A Magic of Twilight», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.
Интервал:
Закладка:
The Kraljica seemed to chuckle, nearly silently. “What you think might not matter, O’Teni, if ca’Cellibrecca gains any more power in the Concord A’Teni. But it’s obvious that you’d be utterly wasted as a light-teni.” She exhaled deeply, looking again at the spot where the illusion had stood. “Let’s talk,” she said, “because I find that I’m growing concerned at what I hear from both outside and inside our borders. . ”
Jan ca’Vorl
Jan glanced down the ranks of soldiers as his carriage passed
by, their right hands fisted and raised in salute, their faces grim and serious. Most of them were young, but there were grizzled sergeants here and there whose scarred faces remembered the eastern campaigns on the plains of Tennshah and the glorious victory at Lake Cresci, where the Firenzcian army had nearly been destroyed before turning the tide.
The near-disaster at Lake Cresci had been the fault of the a’teni of Brezno at the time, who had sent but a quarter of the war-teni that Hirzg Karin, Jan’s vatarh, had requested to support the ground troops with their magic. The campaign had nearly been lost in that final battle before Jan and the Chevarittai of the Red Lancers had broken through to storm the Escarpment of the Falls and send the T’Sha’s turbaned troops fleeing back to the Great Eastern River.
Jan had sustained his own first battle wounds there, protecting the lamented Starkkapitan ca’Gradki of the Lancers. With that battle, he’d demonstrated to his vatarh the Hirzg that his second child-the one who was hardly the favorite, the one that he invariably denigrated and mocked and derided-was a far braver and more decisive leader than his first son Ludwig, who the Hirzg had named as heir. Jan had taken more territory from Tennshah than his vatarh could have hoped-before Kraljica Marguerite insisted that the borders be restored to what they’d been before the war, and given another one of her seemingly endless grandnieces to the T’Sha to seal the vile treaty that wasted what had been gained through the lives of hundreds of Firenzcian troops.
That memory of that treachery galled, still, two full decades later, bringing stinging bile to Jan’s throat. The Kraljica had stolen Jan’s victory, his victory over both Tennshah and over his brother Ludwig. She had squandered the proof that Jan was more fit to be the next Hirzg than the simpering, vain fool Vatarh obviously preferred. Had both Ludwig and Hirzg Karin not succumbed to the Southern Fever within a few months of each other-five years ago now-Jan would never have taken the throne of Brezno.
Yes, the memory still galled. But Jan ignored it and saluted the troops from his seat open to the air, nodding now and then to those with the star of Tennshah pinned to their uniforms.
Several large tents had been set at one end of the field, and the carriage pulled up there. Servants rushed forward: to take the reins of the horses, to open the door of the carriage, to set a stool on the ground, to take his hand as he dismounted, to relieve him of his sword and his military overcoat, to hand him his walking stick, and to offer refreshments and drinks which he waved aside.
Markell, his aide, was there directing the staff. “Your Hirzgin and daughter are within, my Hirzg.”
Jan followed Markell between the twin rows of bowing servants and court followers and into the welcome shade of the tents. The tents had been arranged so as to mimic the Palais a’Brezno, the “rooms” curtained off, carpets laid over the grass and furniture set along the “walls” as if they had sat there for years. He allowed himself to be escorted down canvas-lined corridors to where another servant held aside a flap painted to resemble a wooden door. Inside the room-a separate tent-he could see his eleven-year-old daughter Allesandra playing with a set of toy soldiers on a table, while the Hirzgin Greta, grandniece of the Kraljica, rose with her ladies-in-waiting from the circle of seats where they’d been chatting. Greta was heavily pregnant with their third child-Jan had performed his duties as husband every month or so, grudgingly, but Greta had remained stubbornly barren since Allesandra’s birth until this unexpected, late pregnancy. Greta was helped to her feet by Mara cu’Paile, one of her attendants; as Jan nodded to their courtesies, he caught Mara’s eye and her smile in return.
“Please, sit and take up your conversation, Hirzgin, Vajica,” he said. Greta had lowered her own gaze, as if afraid to look to see where the Hirzg had put his true attention. The relationship between Vajica cu’Paile and the Hirzg was something that any close observer of the court could see but that no one-not Greta, not Mara’s own husband, nor any of the inner circle of the court-would dare to mention aloud.
But Jan’s interest was focused now on the blonde-haired child standing with her maidservant, who had survived the outbreak of Southern Fever that had taken her older brother six months ago. Jan had wept bitterly at Toma’s funeral, but if Cenzi must take one of his two children, it was better that it was Toma. He had been too much his matarh’s child, or perhaps too much like Jan’s brother Ludwig: weak both physically and mentally. His daughter, however, was molded from the true ca’Belgradin line, the line of the Hirzgs. .
It was the second child of the ca’Belgradin line that was always the strongest. His vatarh should have realized that.
“How is my Allesandra today?” Jan asked. He crouched down and opened his arms. Allesandra smiled and rushed toward him to be gathered up, giggling and kissing his stubbled cheeks.
“I received your present, Vatarh,” she said.
“And do you like it?”
She nodded solemnly. “I do, very much. Would you like to see?”
She took Jan’s hand and led him to the table (the maidservant stepping shyly aside), where tiny golden figures of soldiers were arrayed over a varnished field. “Look, Vatarh, I had Meghan tie beetles to the supply wagons to pull them, but they don’t do a very good job of going where I want them to go. I have to keep them in place with this.” Allesandra plucked a knitting needle from the table and used it to nudge the glossy green carapace of an insect laced by the hindmost legs to its silken traces.
“You’ve done nicely. I’m certain you’ll train your beetles well, and they will bring the supplies safely to your army,” Jan told her. He took one of the figures from the table: no larger than the top of his little finger, the figure was delicately carved and cast. “I’ll have to send the artisan a small sum in appreciation since you like the soldiers so much, won’t I? See, this is one of the Red Lancers-down to the lacing on his boots.” He placed the figure down again. “But you should move your archers back behind your war-teni, Allesandra. They’re too near the front ranks, where they can be easily overrun by the enemy chevarittai.”
Allesandra frowned. “That’s what Georgi said, too, the offizier you sent.”
“Then he knows what he’s doing. Did you like him?”
Allesandra nodded. “He was nice. And very patient.”
“I’ll tell him you said so, and I’ll make sure he gives you more lessons.”
“Hirzg, she is only a child,” Greta chided him softly from her chair.
Jan looked over; Mara was standing just behind the Hirzgin, her green eyes on his. “I don’t know why you told that o’offizier to teach her battle tactics. She doesn’t need to know this.”
Jan looked away from Mara to the far-less pleasant face of Greta. “If she is to be Hirzgin after me, she does,” Jan answered firmly. “Firenzcia always needs leaders who can also be starkkapitan at need.”
“Firenzcia is part of the Holdings, and the Holdings are at peace,”
Читать дальшеИнтервал:
Закладка:
Похожие книги на «A Magic of Twilight»
Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «A Magic of Twilight» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.
Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «A Magic of Twilight» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.