Flight of the Night Hawks. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ began to clean himself off. ‘I was a boy, again. I told you about the time I almost drowned on the beach, the day Kulgan’s man Meecham saved me from the boar.

      ‘This time I didn’t get off the beach, and the Dasati rose from within the storm.’

      Miranda sat up and moved back, resting her shoulders against an ornate headboard Pug had given her years before. She said, ‘The dream is understandable. You’re feeling overwhelmed.’

      He nodded, and for a brief instant in the soft light of the candles she glimpsed the boy he must have been. Those moments were rare. Miranda was older than her husband – more than fifty years his senior, but Pug carried more responsibility than anyone else in the Conclave of Shadows. He rarely spoke of it, but she knew something had happened to him during the war with the Emerald Queen years before, during the time he had lingered between life and death, his body a mass of burns from a mighty demon’s magic. Since that time he had changed, he had become more humble and less sure of himself. It was something only those closest to Pug saw, and then only rarely, but it was there.

      Pug said, ‘Yes, I feel overwhelmed. The scope of things … makes me feel … insignificant at times.’

      She smiled, got out of bed and came up behind her husband. Over a hundred years old, Pug looked no more than forty years of age – his body was still trim and athletic, though there was a touch of grey in his hair. He had already lived two lifetimes, and while Miranda was older, Pug had suffered more during his years. He had been held captive as a Tsurani slave for four years, and had then risen to become one of the most powerful men of that empire – a Great One, a Black Robe – a magician of the Assembly.

      His first wife, Katala, had left him to return home and die among her people, succumbing to a disease that no priest or healer could cure. Then Pug had lost his children, something no parent should ever have to endure. Of his oldest friends, only Tomas abided still, for the others had only been allotted a mortal’s span. Some, Miranda had known briefly, but most were merely names she recalled from his stories: Prince Arutha, who Pug still held in awe even after all these years; the Prince’s father, Lord Borric, who had given Pug a family name; Princess Carline, the object of his boyish infatuation; Kulgan, his first teacher, and Meecham, Kulgan’s companion.

      The list of names went on, but they were all dead. Laurie, his companion in the slave swamps on Kelewan, Squire Roland, so many of his students over the years, Katala … his children, William and Gamina, their children. For a moment he thought of his two surviving sons. ‘I’m worried about Magnus and Caleb,’ he said softly, his tone betraying his concern as much as the words.

      She hugged him tightly from behind. His skin felt cool and clammy. ‘Magnus is hard at work with the magicians of the Assembly on Kelewan and Caleb should reach Stardock Town tomorrow. Now come back to bed and let me comfort you.’

      ‘You are always a comfort,’ he said softly. He turned slowly in the circle of her arms. Facing her, he again marvelled at his wife’s appearance. Beautiful, but strong. The planes of her face were softened by a high forehead and a delicate chin, and her eyes were dark and piercing. ‘There are times when I feel I barely know you, given your penchant for secrets, my love. But then there are also times when I know you better than anyone, even myself. And I am certain that no one understands me better than you do.’ He held her tightly for a moment, then whispered, ‘What are we to do?’

      ‘What we must, my love,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Come, back to bed. Dawn is still hours away.’

      With a wave of her hand Miranda extinguished the candles, and the room was plunged back into darkness. Pug followed his wife to bed and they nestled down together, seeking comfort in each other’s arms.

      Pug’s mind wrestled with the images from his dream but he pushed them aside. He knew what was troubling him: once again circumstances were forcing him to act against improbable odds, and that he must again deal with the repercussions of events that had taken place long before his birth.

      Why, he thought, must I spend my life cleaning up after other people? But even as he framed the question, he knew the answer. He had made peace with his gifts years ago, and with such power came responsibility. Try as he might, it was in his nature to be responsible.

      Still, he thought as sleep returned, it would be lovely to return – even if only for one day – to the time when he and Tomas were boys, filled with the hopes and ambitions of youth, when the world had been a much simpler place.

       • CHAPTER ONE •

       Brothers

      THE BOYS BURST THROUGH THE DOOR.

      Chickens scattered; one moment they had been peacefully pecking the ground, seeking spilled grain and the occasional insect, the next they were squawking in protest, and scurrying in all directions as the two boys hurtled past and landed in the village street with loud grunts.

      To passersby the boys appeared as a flurry of fists, elbows and knees rolling on the ground pecked clean by the chickens. Thrashing about, their blows were ineffective but heartfelt as each boy sought enough leverage to land a winning strike, while at the same time prevent his opponent from punching back effectively. The result appeared to be more of a pointless wrestling match than a serious fight.

      The boys appeared to be roughly the same size and age – about sixteen summers old. The dark-haired youth wore a maroon-coloured tunic and leather trousers. He was slightly shorter, but possessed broader shoulders and was arguably the stronger of the two. The boy with dark-blond hair was dressed in a blue tunic and leather trousers. He possessed a longer reach, and was arguably faster.

      They had been raised as brothers for almost their entire lives and, like brothers everywhere, were prone to conflict in an instant. Both were handsome after a rough fashion: sunburned and possessing the lean strength gained from long hours of hard work and barely adequate food. Neither boy was stupid, but at this moment they were not behaving particularly brightly.

      The cause of their current conflict hurried out of the door after them, shouting angrily. ‘Tad! Zane! Stop this right now or I won’t go to the festival with either of you.’

      The struggling combatants appeared oblivious to her warning as they rolled in the dust. ‘He started it!’ shouted the dark-haired boy.

      ‘No I didn’t!’ countered the other.

      The girl was the same age as the rivals. She had brown hair like Zane, and green eyes like Tad, was smarter than both of them put together, and was arguably the prettiest girl in Stardock Town.

      An older woman followed Ellie from the house carrying a bucket of well water and she unceremoniously tipped it over the boys.

      Shouting at their sudden drenching, the lads released each other and sat up. ‘Ma!’ shouted the blond boy. ‘What’d you do that for? I’ve got mud all over me now.’

      ‘Then go clean yourself up, Tad.’ The woman was tall and regal looking, despite her plain homespun dress. Her light brown hair had some grey, and her face was sunburned and creased, but her expression was youthful. Looking at the darker lad, she added, ‘You too, Zane.’ Her brown eyes were merry though her expression was stern. ‘Caleb will be here soon and then we’re leaving with or without you two hooligans.’

      The СКАЧАТЬ