[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
haunted the riverside forests. Now he was impatient for the conclave to convene. The major rulers had
arrived: himself and Mark of Astarac, their alliance a secret between the pair of them; white-haired,
irascible Haukir of Almark, Inceptine advisers flapping around him like vultures eyeing a lame old
warhorse; Skarpathin of Finnmark, a young man who had assumed his throne in rather murky, murderous
circumstances; Duke Adamir of Gabrion, the very picture of a grizzled sea-dog; and Lofantyr of
Torunna, looking harried and older than his thirty-two years.
There were others, of course. The dukes of the Border Fiefs were here: Gardiac, Tarber, and even
isolated Kardikia had sent an envoy, though Duke Comorin could not come in person. Since the fall of
Aekir, Kardikia was cut off from the rest of the Ramusian world; the only links it had with the other
western powers now were by sea.
The Duke of Touron and the self-styled Prince of Fulk were present also, and in Abeleyn s own
entourage, but not seated at the council table, was a representative of Narbukir, that Fimbrian electorate
which had broken away from its fellows almost eighty years ago. The Narbukan envoy was to be
revealed at the proper time. From the Fimbrian Electorates proper Abeleyn had had no news, no
response to his overtures. He had expected as much, for all Golophin s optimism.
The rulers of the Ramusian kingdoms of the world were young men in the main. It seemed that a
generation of older kings had relinquished their hold on power within a few years of each other, and the
sons had taken their father s thrones whilst in their twenties or early thirties.
There were three Prelates present in the city also, newly arrived from the recent Synod at Charibon.
Escriban of Perigraine, who was Prelate of the kingdom itself, Heyn of Torunna, who had spent hours
closeted with King Lofantyr, and Merion of Astarac, who had spent the time likewise with Mark. Old
Marat, the Prelate of Almark, had taken the quickest route home, but his monarch, Haukir, was so
hemmed in by clerical advisers that he had probably deduced his presence unnecessary; so Abeleyn
thought sourly.
The first meeting of the conclave was convened amid a buzz of rumour and speculation. There were
reports that the first assaults on Ormann Dyke had taken place, and though part of the fortress complex
had fallen the rest was standing, defying a Merduk horde half a million strong. Thanks to Golophin s
gyrfalcon, Abeleyn was more accurately informed. Though it had taken place only days ago, and was
almost a month s travel away, he knew of the failed river assault and the current enemy lethargy. He was
at a loss to account for it, however.
But the miracle had been granted: the dyke still stood. It might be possible to reinforce it now. Five
thousand Knights Militant were purportedly riding to the relief of the fortress from Charibon even as the
kings took council in Vol Ephrir.
But there was another item of news which only Abeleyn and a few others were privy to. It had been
confirmed that Macrobius was alive and well at the dyke, blinded but in possession of his senses.
Himerius elevation to the Pontiffship was therefore null and void. It was the best news Abeleyn had
heard in weeks. He settled back in his leather-padded chair at the council table in the King s Hall of Vol
Ephrir in a better mood than might otherwise be expected.
King Cadamost of Perigraine, as befitted his status as host, called the meeting to order.
The most powerful men in the western world were in a circular chamber in the highest tower of the
palace. The floor upon which their chairs scraped was exquisitely mosaicked with the arms and flags of
the Royal houses of Normannia. Tall windows of coloured glass tinted the flooding sunlight twenty feet
above the heads of the assembled kings, and Perigrainian war banners hung limp from the rafters. There
were no guards in the great chamber; they were posted on the staircases below. The round table at
which everyone sat was littered with quills and papers. Those who disdained to read or write themselves
had brought scribes along with them.
Courtesies were exchanged, greetings bandied about, protocol satisfied with an interminable series of
speeches expressing the gratitude of the visiting kings to their host. As a matter of fact, hosting the
conclave was no mean feat, even for the spacious city of Vol Ephrir. Every ruler present had brought
several hundred retainers with him, and these had to be accommodated in a certain style, as did the
monarchs themselves. Entertainments had to be laid on, banquets and tourneys to keep the crowned
heads diverted when they were not in the council chamber, delicacies to whet their appetites, beer and
wine and other liqueurs to help them relax. All in all, Abeleyn thought petulantly, Cadamost could have
raised and equipped a sizeable army with the money he had spent playing the gracious host to his fellow
monarchs. But that was the way the world worked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
haunted the riverside forests. Now he was impatient for the conclave to convene. The major rulers had
arrived: himself and Mark of Astarac, their alliance a secret between the pair of them; white-haired,
irascible Haukir of Almark, Inceptine advisers flapping around him like vultures eyeing a lame old
warhorse; Skarpathin of Finnmark, a young man who had assumed his throne in rather murky, murderous
circumstances; Duke Adamir of Gabrion, the very picture of a grizzled sea-dog; and Lofantyr of
Torunna, looking harried and older than his thirty-two years.
There were others, of course. The dukes of the Border Fiefs were here: Gardiac, Tarber, and even
isolated Kardikia had sent an envoy, though Duke Comorin could not come in person. Since the fall of
Aekir, Kardikia was cut off from the rest of the Ramusian world; the only links it had with the other
western powers now were by sea.
The Duke of Touron and the self-styled Prince of Fulk were present also, and in Abeleyn s own
entourage, but not seated at the council table, was a representative of Narbukir, that Fimbrian electorate
which had broken away from its fellows almost eighty years ago. The Narbukan envoy was to be
revealed at the proper time. From the Fimbrian Electorates proper Abeleyn had had no news, no
response to his overtures. He had expected as much, for all Golophin s optimism.
The rulers of the Ramusian kingdoms of the world were young men in the main. It seemed that a
generation of older kings had relinquished their hold on power within a few years of each other, and the
sons had taken their father s thrones whilst in their twenties or early thirties.
There were three Prelates present in the city also, newly arrived from the recent Synod at Charibon.
Escriban of Perigraine, who was Prelate of the kingdom itself, Heyn of Torunna, who had spent hours
closeted with King Lofantyr, and Merion of Astarac, who had spent the time likewise with Mark. Old
Marat, the Prelate of Almark, had taken the quickest route home, but his monarch, Haukir, was so
hemmed in by clerical advisers that he had probably deduced his presence unnecessary; so Abeleyn
thought sourly.
The first meeting of the conclave was convened amid a buzz of rumour and speculation. There were
reports that the first assaults on Ormann Dyke had taken place, and though part of the fortress complex
had fallen the rest was standing, defying a Merduk horde half a million strong. Thanks to Golophin s
gyrfalcon, Abeleyn was more accurately informed. Though it had taken place only days ago, and was
almost a month s travel away, he knew of the failed river assault and the current enemy lethargy. He was
at a loss to account for it, however.
But the miracle had been granted: the dyke still stood. It might be possible to reinforce it now. Five
thousand Knights Militant were purportedly riding to the relief of the fortress from Charibon even as the
kings took council in Vol Ephrir.
But there was another item of news which only Abeleyn and a few others were privy to. It had been
confirmed that Macrobius was alive and well at the dyke, blinded but in possession of his senses.
Himerius elevation to the Pontiffship was therefore null and void. It was the best news Abeleyn had
heard in weeks. He settled back in his leather-padded chair at the council table in the King s Hall of Vol
Ephrir in a better mood than might otherwise be expected.
King Cadamost of Perigraine, as befitted his status as host, called the meeting to order.
The most powerful men in the western world were in a circular chamber in the highest tower of the
palace. The floor upon which their chairs scraped was exquisitely mosaicked with the arms and flags of
the Royal houses of Normannia. Tall windows of coloured glass tinted the flooding sunlight twenty feet
above the heads of the assembled kings, and Perigrainian war banners hung limp from the rafters. There
were no guards in the great chamber; they were posted on the staircases below. The round table at
which everyone sat was littered with quills and papers. Those who disdained to read or write themselves
had brought scribes along with them.
Courtesies were exchanged, greetings bandied about, protocol satisfied with an interminable series of
speeches expressing the gratitude of the visiting kings to their host. As a matter of fact, hosting the
conclave was no mean feat, even for the spacious city of Vol Ephrir. Every ruler present had brought
several hundred retainers with him, and these had to be accommodated in a certain style, as did the
monarchs themselves. Entertainments had to be laid on, banquets and tourneys to keep the crowned
heads diverted when they were not in the council chamber, delicacies to whet their appetites, beer and
wine and other liqueurs to help them relax. All in all, Abeleyn thought petulantly, Cadamost could have
raised and equipped a sizeable army with the money he had spent playing the gracious host to his fellow
monarchs. But that was the way the world worked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]