Pokrewne

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Chelsea Handler Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang (epub
Brit Brinson [Dia of the Dead Dia of the Dead (epub)
Cody Goodfellow [Radiant Dawn Radiant Dawn (epub)
Cate Tiernan [Immortal Belove Immortal Beloved (epub)
C J Busby [Deep Amber 01] Deep Amber (retail) (epub)
Carl Ashmore [Time Hunters 01 The Time Hunters (epub)
Drew Hayes [Super Powereds 02 Super Powereds Year 2 (epub) i
Beth Harbison [Shoe Addict 02 Secrets of a Shoe Addict (epub)
Cara Lynn Shultz [Dark World The Dark World (retail) (epub)

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.Before taking up her apprenticeship, Wynter had been the King's Cat-Keeper and she had known all her charges by name.Whose great-great-grand-kitten-grown-to-cat is this? she wondered.She inclined her head and murmured, "All respects to you this fine day, mouse-bane," fully expecting the usual reply, All the finer for you, having seen me.But instead, the cat's green eyes opened in shock and confusion at her greeting, and it flickered suddenly away, a flame in sunlight, flowing across the moat bridge and disappearing down onto the loose gravel of the far bank.Wynter watched it depart with a puzzled frown.Imagine a cat having such atrocious manners and such easily shattered composure! Something wasn't right.The rattle of the sentry gate brought Wynter's eyes frontwards and the shadows under the portcullis were sliced by a sharp blade of sunlight as the gate opened a crack.The Sergeant of the Watch stuck his head out.He regarded the two of them without a trace of deference, as if surprised to find them still there.Wynter's court-face slipped smoothly into place.Without another word to them, the Sergeant pulled his head back in and shut the sentry door with a snap of the lock.Wynter's heart dropped, but rose again instantly as the heavy door chains began to pull backwards with a grinding whine of metal on stone.Somewhere within the wall, the Master of the Entrance was turning the big wheel that wound the chains onto their spools.Yes! thought Wynter, We have been granted access!Slowly, slowly the shadows under the bridge were eaten up by sunlight as the heavy horse gate swung open to reveal the inner gardens and the King's domain.Victuallor Heron was striding down the wide gravel path as they passed through the gate, his office robe flapping.He must have been at business to be dressed so formally and, indeed, Wynter saw that his fingers were stained with ink.His wrinkled old face was filled with joy and he was advancing on her father as if he would rise up from the ground, a great amiable bird, and descend upon him, horse and all, to wrap him in a hug that would hide both of them from view."Lorcan!" he cried as he swept along the gravel, "Lorcan!" and his immediate informality undid a thousand anxious knots in Wynter's mind.Some things, at least, were still all right.Her father leaned forward from the height of his saddle and smiled tiredly down at his old friend.They clasped hands, her father's big splay-fingered shovel of a hand wrapped tightly in the long fingered agility of Heron's.Their smiling eye contact lingered and spoke volumes."Friend Heron," said Lorcan, his warm, rasping voice an embrace in itself, the feeling going far beyond the words.Heron's eyes sharpened and he lowered his chin a little, his grip on Lorcan's hand tightening."I believe you were kept waiting," he said, his eyes flicking almost imperceptibly to the sentry.Something in the set of his face made Wynter glance at the attending guards and what she saw made her heart do a strange little pitter in her chest.The soldiers were openly staring at this exchange between Heron and her father.In fact, they were almost perceptibly lounging in the presence of the Victuallor.She swallowed down a lump of uncertainty and glanced back to where her father and Heron were exchanging a meaningful look.Suddenly her father straightened in the saddle, drawing himself up so that his full height and the true width of his powerful shoulders became apparent.Wynter saw his face go very still.His eyelids dropped to hood the vibrant cat-green of his eyes, and his generous, curving mouth thinned and curled up on one side.This was what Wynter thought of as The Mask or sometimes The Cloak.It pained her to see it here, despite its magnificence, and she though wearily, Oh Dad, even here? Even here must we play the terrible game? But she couldn't help the familiar surge of pride as she saw him transform, and there was a touch of cruel pleasure in her smile as she watched him turn in the saddle and put the weight of his suddenly imperious stare onto the lounging guards.Lorcan said nothing for a moment, and for that little while the guards met his eyes as equals, not yet registering the transformation from mere craftsman to something more dangerous.He sat, regally immobile, in the saddle, and he swivelled his head to take in each man, deliberately examining their faces, one at a time, as if adding them to a list somewhere in a dark closet of his mind.His long guildsman's plait swung in a heavy pendulum down his back, seventeen years' worth of growth, uncut since the day he'd been pronounced master of his trade.The deep red of it was only recently distinguished with swathes of grey, and it gave him the air of prosecutor, judge, jury and executioner.Wynter saw doubt begin to grow in the soldiers' faces, saw iron begin to creep up their spines.Still Lorcan didn't speak, and as Wynter watched, the sentry crystallised into a military unit.Just like that.A gang of rabblerous louts one minute, a unit of soldiers at respectful attention the next."Bring me a mounting block," said her father, purposely addressing one man, leaving no doubt that this was an order.That one man, the Sergeant of the Watch himself, took off as sharp as you like and crossed the lawn, disappearing around the corner into the lesser stable block at a quick trot.My God, thought Wynter, He doesn't even know yet who my father is, and there he goes.A carpenter - for all he knows a lowland shepherd's son, a fisherman's bastard, or any such variation on nothing at all - just told him to run fetch a mounting block, and look at him.He's off.She looked up at her father in absolute awe.And all with the weight of his stare, she thought.The Sergeant returned at a fair clip, a mounting block held out before him like some precious baby.He placed it carefully beneath her father's horse and stepped back a respectful distance as Lorcan slipped from the stirrups and dismounted.If it caused him pain to step to the ground, he managed to hide it, even from Wynter who was fine-tuned to see it."Take our horses to the main stables; leave them in the care of the head boy [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]