"Briggs, Patricia - Sianim 3 - When Demons Walk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Briggs Patricia)

room was awash in shadows. Without moving for fear of knocking something over, she drew magic from
a place that was not quite a part of this world. She pushed aside the familiar barrier and tugged loose a
small bit, just enough for her purpose. Holding it tightly she molded it into the shape she wanted, using
gestures and words to guide her deft manipulation. In another place and time she would have worn the
robes of a master wizard.

Magic had always felt to her as if she held some incredible substance that was ice-cold but warmed
her hands anyway. With a pushing gesture she flung it away, watching its white-hot glow with a mage’s
talent. If there was someone here, she’d know shortly. When nothing happened after a count of twenty,
she was satisfied she was the only person in the building.

The magelight that she called was dim, but it lit her way satisfactorily through the sparingly furnished
halls. She wandered through the building until she found the room the boy had described as the lord’s
study.

Drawing a gold piece from one of her pockets, she murmured to it, then tossed it into the air. It spun
lightly, and fell, clinking, to the hard floor. The coin spun on an edge before it came to rest—hopefully on
top of the floor vault where the master of the house kept his gold.

Drawing her magelight near the floor, she inspected the parquet carefully. Under the cool glow she
could just make out the subtle difference in fit where a group of tiles was slightly higher than the rest.
Predictable, she chided the absent lord lightly. Satisfied she’d found the vault, she starting looking for the
release lever to open it.

Under the mahogany desk one of the wooden tiles was noticeably higher than those around it. She
tried pushing on it to no effect, but it pulled up easily with a click followed by a similar sound from the
vault.

She pulled off the loosened section of flooring and peered below. In the small recess there were
several leather bags in a neat row next to a stack of jewelry boxes. Lifting one of the sacks, she found it
filled with gold coins. With a smile of satisfaction, she counted twenty-three into a pouch that she carried
under her silk tunic. Finished, she replaced the bag among its fellows and arranged the sacks so that they
looked much as they had before she’d taken her plunder.

She didn’t even think of looking through the jewelry. It wasn’t that she was opposed to robbery;
after all, that was how she made her living—but tonight she sought retribution and ordinary thievery had
no place in it. After shutting the vault she reset the tile under the desk.

She left his study to continue her explorations. The money was only a third of what she came to do
here this night.

The house looked odd to her Southwood-bred eyes. The rooms were too big and hard to heat,
separated by curtains rather than doors. Floors had been left bare and polished rather than strewn with
rushes. No wonder they left their houses to bask in steambaths, haunted or not: the chill air crept through
this house as if this were a centuries-old, drafty castle rather than a newly built manor.

She climbed the back stairs to the third floor and found a nursery, the servant’s quarters, and a store
room. Returning to the second floor, she continued her search. This particular nobleman collected
instruments of all kinds, and she’d heard from the Whisper that he’d lately purchased one that was more
than it seemed.