Ironcrown Moon Read Online Free
Author: Julian May
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Epic, Kings and rulers, Knights and Knighthood
valet was busy daubing Page 8
spirits of wine on a grease spot on one of the sleeves.
file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/May,%20Julian%20-%20[Bor...0-%20Boreal%20Moon%202%20
-%20Ironcrown%20Moon.html (10 of 228)2-2-2007 18:46:18
May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon
“Sire,” the queen said, “I have a special request to make of you.”
Conrig frowned absently. “What is it, madam?” He had significant concerns of his own this evening, following a brief confidential talk with Earl Marshal Parlian Beorbrook towards the end of the feast. And there was also Ullanoth’s impending visitation…
“I’m concerned about our children. With so many special events going on today, I had no time to look in on them. Your Reverend
Brother dosed the boys with a physick he declared would surely cure them of their cattarh, and it’s true that Bramlow and Corodon seemed well on the road to recovery yesterday. But I’m worried about little Orry. He’s so much more delicate than the others.”
“Send a page to inquire how the lad does,” the preoccupied king said, only half-listening.
Risalla waved the maid away, rose from her stool, and came to stand beside her husband. She was a woman of five-and-twenty whose face often seemed bland and plain in repose; but when she was animated, as now, her cornflower-blue eyes glowed with a disconcerting vigor. For the festivities she was attired in a high-waisted gown that revealed nothing of her six-month pregnancy. It was made of violet silk, embroidered about the low neckline with a pattern of vine leaves picked out in gold thread. A chain supporting a single large diamond pendant hung at her throat. Her honey-colored hair was dressed in a high coil of braids adorned with tiny twinkling sprays of gold wire and amethyst brilliants. A delicate golden diadem, yet to be pinned into place, waited on the dressing table.
“No, husband,” she said firmly. “Sending a page won’t do. I insist on going to the nursery myself, before Orrion and the others are put to bed. Do come with me! You haven’t visited the children all week.”
“It won’t be long before the dancing begins,” Conrig objected. “We have to step out first, as well you know. And after that we must prepare for the special visitation of the Queen of Moss.”
Risalla’s lips tightened in determination. “The housemen are only beginning to put up the lanterns around the dance ground. There’s ample time.” She took his hand, drawing him to his feet. “Surely the Prince Heritor of Cathra is deserving of your sovereign attention.”
Something flickered in Conrig’s dark eyes. But then he let a slow, wintry smile soften his face. He was a tall man and well built, still youthful in appearance at thirty years of age, fine-featured with a short beard and hair the color of ripe wheat. The famous iron crown, originally the rusty top hoop on a small cask of tarnblaze but now polished and given a handsome blue-heat finish, lay unobtrusively on his brow.
“Dear madam, you defeat me once again. We’ll surprise the little rascals at their supper, and I don’t doubt that we’ll find all of them in good fettle, save for their disappointment at having to miss the Solstice celebration.” He said to the valet, “Trey, summon my escort. And carry on scraping off that splash of gravy while I’m gone.”
“Thank you, sire—dearest husband.” Risalla spoke with every evidence of humble diffidence before adding in a drier tone, “After all, it’s not as though the dancing could begin without us.
And Conjure-Queen Ullanoth is a very patient woman… or so I’ve heard.”
==========
Conrig Wincantor, Sovereign of High Blenholme, stood with his wife outside the closed door to the royal nursery. A look of contained chagrin stiffened his features. Shrieks of childish laughter, furious shouts from an adult female, and the sounds of smashing crockery were audible through the thick oaken planking. The household knights of
spirits of wine on a grease spot on one of the sleeves.
file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/May,%20Julian%20-%20[Bor...0-%20Boreal%20Moon%202%20
-%20Ironcrown%20Moon.html (10 of 228)2-2-2007 18:46:18
May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon
“Sire,” the queen said, “I have a special request to make of you.”
Conrig frowned absently. “What is it, madam?” He had significant concerns of his own this evening, following a brief confidential talk with Earl Marshal Parlian Beorbrook towards the end of the feast. And there was also Ullanoth’s impending visitation…
“I’m concerned about our children. With so many special events going on today, I had no time to look in on them. Your Reverend
Brother dosed the boys with a physick he declared would surely cure them of their cattarh, and it’s true that Bramlow and Corodon seemed well on the road to recovery yesterday. But I’m worried about little Orry. He’s so much more delicate than the others.”
“Send a page to inquire how the lad does,” the preoccupied king said, only half-listening.
Risalla waved the maid away, rose from her stool, and came to stand beside her husband. She was a woman of five-and-twenty whose face often seemed bland and plain in repose; but when she was animated, as now, her cornflower-blue eyes glowed with a disconcerting vigor. For the festivities she was attired in a high-waisted gown that revealed nothing of her six-month pregnancy. It was made of violet silk, embroidered about the low neckline with a pattern of vine leaves picked out in gold thread. A chain supporting a single large diamond pendant hung at her throat. Her honey-colored hair was dressed in a high coil of braids adorned with tiny twinkling sprays of gold wire and amethyst brilliants. A delicate golden diadem, yet to be pinned into place, waited on the dressing table.
“No, husband,” she said firmly. “Sending a page won’t do. I insist on going to the nursery myself, before Orrion and the others are put to bed. Do come with me! You haven’t visited the children all week.”
“It won’t be long before the dancing begins,” Conrig objected. “We have to step out first, as well you know. And after that we must prepare for the special visitation of the Queen of Moss.”
Risalla’s lips tightened in determination. “The housemen are only beginning to put up the lanterns around the dance ground. There’s ample time.” She took his hand, drawing him to his feet. “Surely the Prince Heritor of Cathra is deserving of your sovereign attention.”
Something flickered in Conrig’s dark eyes. But then he let a slow, wintry smile soften his face. He was a tall man and well built, still youthful in appearance at thirty years of age, fine-featured with a short beard and hair the color of ripe wheat. The famous iron crown, originally the rusty top hoop on a small cask of tarnblaze but now polished and given a handsome blue-heat finish, lay unobtrusively on his brow.
“Dear madam, you defeat me once again. We’ll surprise the little rascals at their supper, and I don’t doubt that we’ll find all of them in good fettle, save for their disappointment at having to miss the Solstice celebration.” He said to the valet, “Trey, summon my escort. And carry on scraping off that splash of gravy while I’m gone.”
“Thank you, sire—dearest husband.” Risalla spoke with every evidence of humble diffidence before adding in a drier tone, “After all, it’s not as though the dancing could begin without us.
And Conjure-Queen Ullanoth is a very patient woman… or so I’ve heard.”
==========
Conrig Wincantor, Sovereign of High Blenholme, stood with his wife outside the closed door to the royal nursery. A look of contained chagrin stiffened his features. Shrieks of childish laughter, furious shouts from an adult female, and the sounds of smashing crockery were audible through the thick oaken planking. The household knights of
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