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was even better than cheap:
it was free.
A troop of twenty horsemen in the orange-and-black livery of the House of Fire
thundered around the bend in the road, blue pennants fluttering from the tips
of the lancers' lances.
Blue?
"House of the Sky," Hosea answered the unasked question. "They're on an
assignment on behalf of the Scion, of the Dominions as a whole, not just of
the House of Fire."
"Is that usual?"
"No."
The horsemen slowed as they approached the wide spot in the road where Ian and
Hosea stood waiting. None were armored cap-a-
pie, but each of the lancers held a highly burnished shield on his free arm,
while his lance arm was covered with a metal sleeve from the gauntlet to where
it disappeared under a riding cloak.
All wore peaked helmets that covered the top, back, and sides of their heads,
with what Ian thought of as a nose-piece, although it probably had a technical
name, covering the face from brow to mouth.
The leader wore the three red and silver stripes of an ordinary of the House
of Flame on his shield, which he deftly tossed to the horseman on his right
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side, then dismounted with an easy vault.
He removed his helmet, and handed it up to another of the horsemen. "Ian
Silver Stone," he said, with a shallow smile that went no deeper than his
teeth, "I'm pleased to see you here."
Branden del Branden still wore his moustache, but his sharp chin was
clean-shaven; apparently beards were, at the moment, out of fashion in. the
House of Fire, and Branden del Branden was nothing if not stylish.
He was only a little shorter than Ian, and his build was a compromise between
Ian's own lankiness and the thick muscularity of the
Thorsens.
Except for his wrists: both were thick and muscular, like Ian's own. They were
a swordsman's wrists. An ordinary of the House of
Flame might not be the equal of a professional duelist, but he was, first and
foremost, a swordsman, in both law and practice, and the wrist was the fulcrum
around which the world of the sword balanced.
Ian hadn't known Branden del Branden long or well, but he had known him long
enough to dislike him. It wasn't that Branden del
Branden clearly had a thing for Maggie Ian understood that, and Torrie could
have taken him handily if he got out of line but it was something about his
self-assurance that grated on Ian's nerves. Branden del Branden, no more than
thirty, had felt perfectly comfortable taking charge of Falias while the new
Fire Duke was being sent for.
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Hidden Ways 3.htm
Maybe it was just jealousy. Branden del Branden not only had a solid place in
his world but he had always had it, and always would. He was the oldest son of
Branden del Branden the Elder, and while that made him heir to his father's
responsibilities, it also had always made him heir to his father's place.
It was probably his move, so Ian stepped forward and offered his hand; Branden
del Branden stepped forward and accepted it, gripping Ian's wrist as Ian
gripped his. Branden del Branden's grip was, if anything, stronger than Ian's.
"It's good to see you, as well," Ian said.
"Oh, and why would that be?"
Because it was the polite thing to say? "Why shouldn't it be?"
"I don't know why the man the Vandestish call the Promised Warrior would be
happy to see an ordinary of the House of Flame,"
Branden del Branden said, his tone light, but with the definite undertone of
menace that Ian had heard before.
Or, for that matter, why an ordinary of the House of Flame would be happy to
see someone who had snatched the Brisingamen ruby almost literally from under
his nose, and conveyed it to Freya for safekeeping.
"Then why did you say you were happy to see me?"
"I didn't say I was happy; I said I was pleased," Branden del Branden said, as
though daring Ian to take offense. "Vereden del
Harold, whose troop waits for you at the northern pass, owes me a ram, and his
troop owes my troop a feasting." He gestured at the men behind him, who sat
eyeing Ian and Hosea with what Ian hoped was professional interest rather than
the cold hostility that it felt like.
Gratitude apparently wasn't high on the list of attributes among the ruling
class of the Dominions. Well, that didn't make them different from rulers in
other times, other places, did it?
Shit.
"How did you know I was coming?" Ian asked.
Branden del Branden barely glanced skyward before his eyes fastened back on
Ian's. "I couldn't say," he said.
Oh, Ian thought.
I think maybe I'd like to teach you how to play high-stakes poker, Branden del
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Branden. You've got a wicked tell.
"A little bird told you told him, eh?" he said in English.
"I would imagine a large one," Hosea answered, also in English, from behind
him.
That was the trouble with messing around with the gods. Once they took an [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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