Dragon’s Empire – 5. Society of Shadows. Natalie Yacobson

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Название Dragon’s Empire – 5. Society of Shadows
Автор произведения Natalie Yacobson
Жанр Приключения: прочее
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isbn 9785005611673



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if all he wanted was to take the throne from you. Then it would be war, not a game, not a talk dragged on all night like serenades, not trickery, but an open combat. He does not seek to fight you, and that can only mean one thing. He doesn’t want to damage something during the battle that he’d like to appropriate intact.»

      Rose reached out and touched my cheek.

      «He wants your angelic appearance. That’s why he’s afraid to go into battle. He’s afraid of hurting you or disfiguring you. Take advantage of that. Let’s attack first. You wouldn’t spare such a scoundrel just because you got used to his company during your imprisonment.»

      «Honestly, it’s you who should feel sorry for him. After all, he’s your distant relative.

      «From what you’ve told me, he’s changed like a chameleon in his life. If he had any close relatives left, I don’t think even they would recognize him as a kinsman. He had changed so much that they would take him for an outsider.»

      «Rose,» I wanted to explain to her what I couldn’t understand. «I was never afraid of him. I was never afraid of anyone. Rather, I hated him, but in the beginning I respected the majestic stranger in him. As soon as he ceased to be a stranger, all the aura of grandeur immediately fell away, on close examination I revealed all his pettiness, malice, greed, and instead of respect I began to treat him with mockery. That’s what happens when you look at actors. From the distance of the orchestra pit they may still seem attractive, but up close you see only a layer of makeup. I don’t mean you, of course; on the «Marionette’s» stage that night you were the one and only occasional exception.

      «So, you’re only being nice to him because he’s a part of a time that has now faded into oblivion?» Rose went to her apartment. I, like a shadow, followed her silently and steadily through the chambers of the castle. I didn’t want to be without company; I’d rather watch as she hid her jewels in the chest of drawers and sat down gracefully in the carved rocking chair in front of the fireplace. I liked silently watching her movements, which became as light and weightless as mine. I liked to be near her, watching her to write some spells or poems in her notebook, but to remain silent and not interfere with her in any way, except to help pick up pens or papers if they fell off the table. In this way, perhaps, only a guardian angel can watch over his ward, always be near her, but remain silent, love her, but not count on reciprocal feelings. It has been that way from the moment I saw her for the first time. Rose herself knew that a certain winged spirit guarded and loved her, but no one close to her guessed about this love.

      Now all of a sudden, she wanted to protect me from danger. She was crumpling in her hands the very paper with the witchcraft formula that she had tried to give me before. The chair swayed on its own, and Rose sat motionless in it, as light as a feather and as mysterious as a ghost.

      «Read your spells, and they will lead us to the temple, which you called the hall beneath the dome,» Rose was the first to break the silence.

      «Do you really want to go there with me?»

      «I want to see the place,» Rose stood up from her chair, easily and silently. It continued to sway for a long time, as if her shadow remained seated in it. The princess herself walked around the room, stroked the gremlin that slept on her muff, looked into the wardrobe, where were her gowns. I knew she was looking for her camisole and sword, but could not remember in which closet she had left them.

      «We could meet Rothbart there and see how he learned to prolong his youth,» I said without thinking, as if someone had whispered a clue in my ear.

      «Could he do you any harm?» Rose wondered. «Could he think of any way to end the life of an immortal creature? Is there any way to end your life at all?»

      I looked at her carefully and said what I thought:

      «If you leave me, I won’t survive it.»

      «Oh, what would you do?» She laughed. «How will you kill yourself?»

      The question struck a bell in my mind. Indeed, how? Jump from a height and crash? It is in vain. Even if I did not open my wings at the last moment, but crashed, every cell of my body would still recover. Stab myself with a knife? It is pointless. Drink poison? It is useless. Cut my veins? The wound would heal instantly.»

      «The only thing to do is to decapitate me,» I suggested.

      «As long as you are a human no one would dare that sacrilege,» she protested.

      «He is not a human,» I corrected.

      «The Prince appreciates your flawless features too much. So we have nothing to fear,» Rose found in the bottom drawer of the closet what she was looking for: a camisole, velvet pantaloons, vest, boots, and, of course, a sword in sheath.

      «Get ready,» I nodded, glad to have a living and beautiful creature by my side at all times. Alone, the journey into the ravine might have seemed endless. «I must tell the king that even if I were to disappear, he must not surrender power to Henri if he should show up. Everything must be foreseen.»

      I was already standing by the open window, behind which the snowflakes were swirling, and I was about to fly away, but I stopped, remembering that I should praise Rose for the way she had impressed Camille.

      «You know, the author of the play is dreaming of your return to the stage.»

      «I know you think „The Shadow and the Marquise“ is a libel, but, come to think of it, the author not only besmirched your honest name, but he made you, the dragon, a famous hero, at least on the stage.»

      «It is comforting,» I muttered, smiling at the corners of my lips. Rose said something else, but her words were directed only toward the swirl of snow outside the open window. She seemed to be saying that she suspected some fantasy in the play, but thought it was different in life. I couldn’t hear her because I was in a hurry. Already pacing the streets of Viniena, I was thinking of the words I should have spoken instead of the actor. Of course, Camille had made it up; no conversation had ever taken place between me and Sabrina. I simply did not have enough time to have a conversation with her at the time, but the author’s rich imagination put into my mouth the lines that I could have said only to Rose, not to the victim. I tried to repeat a verse to myself and see if there was anything in the verse that offended me, or if Camille was just taking advantage of what we had talked about in the dungeon. It is too bad that you can’t memorize the whole play with the first time.

      I paused, glanced at the disk of the moon high above the rooftops, and remembered Rose standing on the stage. How beautifully and well she had delivered her speech. Camille had written my speech in a way that would have suited him, as well as any of the magical creatures. There was no one in the streets; no one would have heard me, except some fairy wishing to oblige, but hiding in an alleyway for now. In a whisper, I repeated Camille’s poem, the stranger’s answer to the Marquise’s question, «Who are you?

      «I am a creature of that country,

      Where nature with a mixture of evil

      We are born in spite of

      Against all the rules of existence

      We are our own among the shadows

      We’re winged and proud

      Always playing hide-and-seek among men

      We have to play for it.»

      And someone in the dark alleyway responded to my whisper with a muffled, understanding laugh. Only one bandit could greet another with such a meaningful laugh. I looked around, but saw no one.

      I did not bother anyone in the palace. Why wake the king? He would be sure to talk me out of my dangerous undertakings, or offer his help. I ignored the door, used the second-floor window, sat down at the table in the king’s study, wrote a short letter to the king, and sealed it with the king’s