"Ann Durand - Flight of the Gryphon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Durand Ann)

contains the full extent of his power. With it, he controls his entire empire. When it is gone from your
head, he no longer has any power over you."

It must be true. Her head, though throbbing from the cut, had never felt quite so…light. Not since she
was sixteen years old, before that terrible day that Askinadon had announced his presence. She felt free,
free to think…free to wonder…

"Where did Askinadon come from?" she asked, her spirits soaring for the first time in many years. "Our
people…we used to be so happy. And then one day, he was just there. His kingdom simply appeared on
the summit of Kan Mountain. How did he get here? And what of the virgins that he calls to him? What
happens to them? Do you know if they're alive?"

"Whoa, whoa." Mikolen held up both hands. "That's a lot of asking. We're going to have to take this one
question at a time." His eyes traveled over her clothes. "But first things first. You, dear lady, need a bath."

He was right. Her hair, her spullera, her panna, everything, was caked with dried mud, not to mention the
streaks of dried blood on her face.

"Do you have a…"
"Place to bathe?" he finished. "Yes. And it's ready for you. You can wash while I find you some clean
clothes. When you're finished, we'll eat. Then you can ask your questions."

Katera felt a wave of relief surge through her. Her Lan Ma Ke was glowing like the moon in its fullness.
This silver man…Mikolen...he must be another god-a god opposed to the horrible Askinadon. A flicker
of hope sparked inside her. Maybe he held the power to fight and win against Askinadon.

Holding the lanadik, he led her through a low tunnel to another large cavern, dominated by a natural pool.
The room was very warm and humid. As he turned to light another lanadik on the wall, she noticed a trail
of steam rising from the pool and drifting toward several small sky holes in the chamber ceiling.

"A hot spring," Katera cried, elated.

"I hope it's not too hot," he said.

Katera stuck her hand in the water. It was quite toasty-just right.

"It feels wonderful," she said, feeling shy. "Thank you…Mikolen."

Mikolen smiled warmly, obviously pleased. "There is a blanket over there." He pointed to a bench. "You
can dry yourself when you're done." He turned to leave, carrying his lanadik and heading toward the
tunnel. "I'll be back with clean clothes."

"Thanks again!" she called, after him. As an afterthought, she added, "My name is Katera."

She thought she heard him chuckling as his footsteps faded away.

Chapter Three
Adrella shifted Rorken to her other hip and leaned into the crank, drawing the pail of water in its final
yard out of the well. Rorken, just fifteen months old, gurgled his pleasure as the pail reached its summit.