文档介绍：LEGEND
David A. Gemmell
__Prologue
The Drenai herald waited nervously outside the great doors of the
throne room, flanked by two Nadir guards who stared ahead, slanted eyes
fixed on the bronze eagle emblazoned on the dark wood.
He licked dry lips with a dry tongue and adjusted his purple cape about
his bony shoulders. He had been so confident in the council chamber at
Drenan six hundred miles south when Abalayn asked him to undertake this
delicate mission: a journey to distant Gulgothir to ratify the treaties
made with Ulric, Lord of the Nadir tribes. Bartellus had helped to
draft treaties in the past, and twice had been present at talks in
western Vagria and south in Mashrapur. All men understood the value of
trade and the necessity to avoid such costly undertakings as war. Ulric
would be no exception. True he had sacked the nations of the northern
plain, but then they had bled his people dry over the centuries with
their taxes and raids; they had sown the seeds of their own
destruction.
Not so the Drenai. They had always treated the Nadir with tact and
courtesy. Abalayn himself had twice visited Ulric in his northern tent
city - and been royally received.
But Bartellus had been shocked at the devastation in Gulgothir. That
the vast gates had been sundered was no surprise, but many of the
defenders had been subsequently mutilated. The square within the main
keep boasted a small mound of human hands. Bartellus shivered and
wrenched his mind from the memory.
For three days they had kept him waiting, but they had been courteous -
even kindly.
He adjusted his cape again, aware that his lean, angular frame did
little justice to the herald's garb. Taking a linen cloth from his
belt, he wiped the sweat from his bald head. His wife constantly warned
him that his head shone dazzlingly whenever he grew nervous. It was an
observation he would have pre-ferred left unspoken.
He slid a glance at the guard to hi