"Kate Elliott - Crown of Stars 5 - The Gathering Storm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elliott Kate)

body. Joy overwhelmed her, for was she not among the elect privileged to witness his
death and redemption? The floodwaters of joy wash back over her to burn her. Is this not
the heretical poison introduced into her soul by Hugh's lies? Yet what if Hugh isn't lying?
Has he really discovered a suppressed account of the redemption? It surpasses
understanding. In her confusion, the dream twists on a flare of light. In a high hall burn
lamps molded into the shapes of phoenixes. Their I flames rise from wicks cunningly fixed
into their brass tail feathers. Here I the skopos presides over a synod called to pass
judgment over the heretics. The accused do not beg for mercy; they demand that the truth
be I spoken at last. Her young brother Ivar stands boldly at the forefront. Who will
interrogate them? Who will interrogate the church itself? If the I Redemption is true, if
the blessed Daisan redeemed the sins of human-! kind by dying rather than being lifted
bodily into heaven in the Ekstasis I white he prayed, then have the church mothers hidden
the truth? Or only I lost it?
Who is the liar?
'Sister, I pray you. Wake up."
Dark and damp swept out from the dream to enclose her, and the ] cold prison of stone
walls dragged her back to Earth. Light stung her I eyes. She shut them. A warm hand
touched her shoulder, and she heard Brother Fortunatus speak again, although his voice
had a catch in it.
'Sister Rosvita! God have mercy. Can you speak?"
With an effort she sat up, opening her eyes. Every joint ached. The chill of the
dungeon had poisoned her to the bone. "I pray you," she said hoarsely, "move the light. It
is too bright."
Only after the light moved to one side could she see Fortunatus'
face. He was crying.
Her wits returned as in a flood. "How long have I been here? Without the sun, I cannot
mark the passing of days. I do not hear the changing of any guard through that door."
He choked back tears. "Three months, Sister."
Three months!
A spasm of fear and horror overcame her, and she almost retched, but her stomach
was empty and she dared not give in to weakness now. Strength of mind was all that had
kept her sane in the intermiable days that had passed since that awful night when she had
heard the voice of a daimone speak through Henry's mouth.
 'What of King Henry? What of Queen Adelheid? Has she not even asked after me?
Have none spoken for me, or asked what became of me? God above, Brother, what I
saw—
'Sister Rosvita," he said sharply, "I fear you are made lightheaded by your
confinement. I have brought you spelt porridge flavored with egg yolks, to strengthen
your blood, and roasted quince, for your lungs."
They were not alone. The man holding the lamp was Petrus, a presbyter in the skopos'
court, Hugh's admirer and ally. What she needed to say could not be said in front of him,
because she dared not implicate Brother Fortunatus, the girls—Heriburg, Ruoda, Ger-
wita—and the rest of her faithful clerics. If she could not protect herself, then certainly
she had no hope of protecting them. Her father's rank and her own notoriety gave her
some shelter, which was probably the only reason she was not dead; she doubted
Fortunatus and the others could hope for even such small mercies as being thrown into a
cell beneath the skopos' palace.
Fortunatus went on. "Sister Ruoda and Sister Heriburg bring soup and bread every
day, Sister Rosvita, just after Sext, although I do not know if you receive it then."
He watched her with an expression of alarmed concern as she worked her way down