"Anne Bishop - Black Jewels 00 - The Invisible Ring" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bishop Anne)

refused to let Polli or me touch it. Then Tomas stuck his head in to see
what was going on and heard us ... discussing things. He just stomped in and
started scolding." Thera smiled. "He's a good scolder."
"I know," Jared said dryly. "So you got the healing supplies."
"I got the supplies," Thera replied. But Jared was no longer listening to
her. His thoughts were on the small chest the Gray Lady had brought with
her. With the spell-lock on it, he'd assumed, along with everyone else, that
it held gold and silver marks and other things she wouldn't want slaves to
have access to. Except he'd realized the first time he'd seen it that the
chest had a Green-strength spell-lock. Which wouldn't have meant anything if
there wasn't one slave who wore a Red Jewel and who could have easily broken
that lock, if that same slave hadn't been singled out from the very
beginning as being different from the others. He wasn't sure if there was
something Thera suspected about the chest that she wasn't going to mention.
Why hadn't the Gray Lady used a Gray lock on that chest?
"Anything else?" Thera said. Did she sound a little defensive?
"Can we get moving?" Jared asked. "We should use what daylight is left and
start looking for a place to camp."
"Sure. We'll keep her comfortable enough." Thera paused. "Are you coming in
now? It's your rest period."
"In a few minutes." When Thera started to close the door, Jared put his hand
against it and asked the question he really wanted to ask. "Is her knee the
only place she's hurt?"
Thera didn't pretend not to understand. "There are a couple of bruises.
Nothing that won't easily heal."
No anger. No criticism. Somehow that made it worse.
Thera opened the door a fraction wider, a silent invitation.
Jared stepped down and back.
"Shriveled balls won't be tolerated," Thera said tartly. "I may need you to
sit on her if Tomas and I can't convince Lady Grumpy to stay put and let
that knee heal."
"Not a good patient?" Jared asked blandly. Thera snorted and shut the door.
Feeling a little better, Jared walked around the wagon and gave Blaed the
nod to move out. It couldn't be a serious injury if she was already snarling
and snipping. Painful, yes, but not something they'd need to find a Healer
to deal with. Brock was waiting for him. "How is she?"
Jared noted that the Purple Dusk-Jeweled Warlord automatically swung to
Jared's left, an acknowledgment of subordinate rank.
"Already bored with the sickbed," Jared answered. He felt Brock relax. "Do
you know any outrageous stories?"
Brock looked startled, then wary. "Depends on what you mean. Campfire talk?
Things like that?"
Jared felt a shiver of apprehension. He knew the dangers of telling tales.
In one of the courts he'd been in, a male guest, wanting to entertain one of
the Ladies enough to receive an invitation to her bed, had repeated a funny
but extremely unflattering story about an aristo witch. He'd named no names,
recounting it as he'd heard it, but the story had been rich in detail-and
the Lady, who was also a guest, recognized herself. He might have survived
if several other guests hadn't also recognized her by those details. Jared
had wondered afterward if the man was the only one who didn't know why he'd