"Jude Fisher - Fool's Gold 02 - Wild Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fisher Jude)

killed and who, up to that horrible moment, had been his friend. Or he
might travel north and try to discover what had happened to Katla
Aransen. The red of the soil here was a daily reminder of her, for it was the
exact dark, sandstone red of her hair; just as the pale blue of the sky on
the northern horizon was the color of her eyes. He found reminders of her
all around him: in the curve of a piece of fruit, in a well-turned blade or a
shout of laughter; in any mention of Eyra or talk of the imminent war with
the North. She was everywhere, and nowhere. He did not even know if she
was still alive. She had escaped the burning, Fabel told him, by sorcerous
means; but Saro had touched her soul when she had laid hands on him at
her knife stall, and he knew there was no witchery in her; just a pure,
natural energy. But night after night she continued to visit him in his
dreams, her presence there as vibrant and physical as it had been in life,
and his heart still yearned for her. That energy could not be gone from the
world: he would surely know in his heart if she were dead?
"Saro!"
His reverie shattered, he turned to find Favio Vingo striding across the
courtyard toward him, his face dark with anger. By the Lady, Saro
thought unhappily, now what?
His unspoken question was answered in no uncertain manner by a
roundhouse slap from the man he had until recently believed to be his
father, up to the moment some months back when he had been visited by
that unwelcome, disturbing vision of his uncle lying with his mother?
Fury rushed through him; but whether it was his own reaction to the
painful assault upon his now-pounding ear, or a less tangible legacy of
Favio's temper, he could not ascertain.
 "How dare you treat your brother so!"
Ah, thought Saro heart sinking. So that's the way of it.
"To strike a bed-ridden invalid is the worst and most cowardly act? and
to strike him so hard as to leave such a mark? "
Saro could hardly believe his ears. While his calumnies against Saro
had so far been many and varied, Tanto had never yet accused him of
physical violence, so this new allegation represented an escalation in
Tanto's lies. Although Saro knew it to be an exercise in futility, he felt that
he should make some attempt to defend himself.
"I did not hit Tanto," he said steadily. "If he has a mark on him it must
be one of his own making."
This just antagonized Favio further. "Come with me!" he roared. His
fingers closed around Saro's biceps with brutal force and he began to drag
him bodily back toward the house.
Saro was overcome by a flood of righteous anger which approached
hatred, followed by a wave of scalding sorrow: for the wrong son was lying
like a great white maggot in the sickbed while this mendacious, useless
boy strode about glowing with health. Saro went bonelessly with Favio
Vingo, his limbs and his mind no longer his own while the physical
contact remained in place. On the threshold of Tanto's chamber, however,
Favio shoved Saro away from him so hard that the boy fell sprawling upon
the tiles, and the maelstrom of emotions ebbed slowly away.
When Saro gathered himself and looked up, he found his mother,
swathed in her customary blue sabatka, weeping silently on a chair beside