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A Rule of Queens. Morgan RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.

A Rule of Queens - Morgan Rice


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smiled as she studied the spear.

      “Do you know what they said about my mother?” she asked.

      Soku stood there and looked back at her blankly, and shook his head.

      “They said she was the Chosen One. They said she would never be defeated. They said she would never die. Do you know why? Because no one had wielded this spear in six centuries. And she came along and wielded it with one hand. And she used it to kill her father and take his throne.”

      Volusia turned to him, her eyes aglow with history and destiny.

      “They said the spear would only be wielded once. By the Chosen One. They said my mother would live a thousand centuries, that the throne of Volusia would be hers forever. And do you know what happened? I wielded the spear myself – and I used it to kill my mother.”

      She took a deep breath.

      “What does that tell you, Lord Commander?”

      He looked at her, confused, and shook his head, puzzled.

      “We can either live in the shadow of other people’s legends,” Volusia said, “or we can create our own.”

      She leaned in close, scowling, glaring back at him in fury.

      “When I have crushed the entire Empire,” she said, “when everyone in this universe bends their knee to me, when there is not a single living person left that doesn’t know and scream and cry my name, you will know then that I am the one and only true leader – and that I am the one and only true god. I am the Chosen One. Because I have chosen myself.”

      Chapter Ten

      Gwendolyn walked through the village, accompanied by her brothers Kendrick and Godfrey, and by Sandara, Aberthol, Brandt and Atme, with hundreds of her people trailing her, as they all were welcomed here. They were led by Bokbu, the village chief, and Gwen walked beside him, filled with gratitude as she toured his village. His people had taken them in, had provided them safe harbor, and the chief had done so at his own risk, against some of his own people’s will. He had saved them all, had pulled them all back from the dead. Gwen did not know what they would have done otherwise. They would probably all be dead at sea.

      Gwen also felt a rush of gratitude for Sandara, who had vouched for them with her people, and who’d had the wisdom to bring them all here. Gwen looked about, taking in the scene as all the villagers swarmed them, watching them arrive like things of curiosity, and she felt like an animal on display. Gwen saw all the small, quaint, modeling clay cottages, and she saw a proud people, a nation of warriors with kind eyes, watching them. Clearly, they’d never seen anything like Gwen and her people. Though curious, they were also guarded. Gwen could not blame them. A lifetime of slavery had molded them to be cautious.

      Gwen noticed all the bonfires being erected everywhere, and she wondered.

      “Why all the fires?” she asked.

      “You arrive at an auspicious day,” Bokbu said. “It is our festival of the dead. A holy night for us, it arrives but once a sun cycle. We burn fires to honor the gods of the dead, and it is said that on this night, the gods visit us, and speak to us of what is to come.”

      “It is also said that our savior will arrive on this day,” chimed in a voice.

      Gwendolyn looked over to see an older man, perhaps in his seventies, tall, thin with a somber look to him, walk up beside them, carrying a long, yellow staff and wearing a yellow cloak.

      “May I introduce you to Kalo,” Bokbu said. “Our oracle.”

      Gwen nodded, and he nodded back, expressionless.

      “Your village is beautiful,” Gwendolyn remarked. “I can see the love of family here.”

      The chief smiled.

      “You are young for a queen, but wise, gracious. It is true what they say about you from across the sea. I wish that you and your people could stay right here, in the village, with us; but you understand, we must hide you from the prying eyes of the Empire. You will be staying close, though; that will be your home, there.”

      Gwendolyn followed his gaze and looked up and saw a distant mountain, filled with holes.

      “The caves,” he said. “You will be safe there. The Empire will not look for you there, and you can burn your fires and cook your food and recover until you’re well.”

      “And then?” Kendrick asked, joining them.

      Bokbu looked over at him, but before he could respond, he suddenly came to a stop as before him there appeared a tall, muscular villager holding a spear, flanked by a dozen muscular men. It was the same man from the ship, the one that protested their arrival – and he did not look happy.

      “You endanger all of our people by allowing the strangers here,” he said darkly. “You must send them back to where they came from. It is not our job to take in every last race that washes up here.”

      Bokbu shook his head as he faced him.

      “Your fathers are ashamed of you,” he said. “The laws of our hospitality extend to all.”

      “And is it the burden of a slave to extend hospitality?” he retorted. “When we cannot even find it ourselves?”

      “How we are treated has no bearing on how we treat others,” the chief retorted. “And we shall not turn away those who need us.”

      The villager sneered back, glaring at Gwendolyn, Kendrick, the others, then back to the chief.

      “We do not want them here,” he said, seething. “The caves are not far away enough, and every day they are here, we are a day closer to death.”

      “And what good is this life you cling to if it is not spent justly?” the chief asked.

      The man stared him down for a long time, the finally turned and stormed off, his men following him.

      Gwendolyn watched them go, wondering.

      “Do not mind him,” the chief said, as he continued walking and Gwen and the others fell in beside him.

      “I do not wish to be a burden on you,” Gwendolyn said. “We can leave.”

      The chief shook his head.

      “You will not leave,” he said. “Not until you are rested and ready. There are other places you can go in the Empire, if you choose. Places that are also well hidden. But they are far from here, and dangerous to reach, and you must recover and decide and stay here with us. I insist on it. In fact, for this night only, I wish for you to join us, to join our festivities in the village. It is already nightfall – the Empire will not see you – and this is an important day for us. I would be honored to have you as our guests.”

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