"Michael Flynn - The Promise Of God" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flynn Michael)

door and admit whoever it was. He pondered that for a time, weighed the urim and
the thummin in his mind, chased the decision as it slipped like quicksilver
through the fingers of his mind, while the pounding on his door increased.
Perhaps he should. . .

But the decision was taken from him. The door creaked open and a mousy-brown
face peered around its edge. It brightened when it saw him, and showed a smile
white with small teeth. "There you be, Master Cornelius. I knew you were here."

"God's afternoon to you, Goodwif Agnes," Nealy said, for he recognized the man
now. "I pray you are well."

Agnes touched the mezuzah lightly to appease the household lares and closed the
door behind her. She curtsied quickly and awkwardly, then stood there, dressed
in a shapeless, butternut homespun gown that just brushed the tops of her
moccasins. The top button in the front of her gown was unfastened, so that Nealy
could see a soft bit of roundness on either side of the opening~ like twin
crescent moons.

"God's afternoon, Master Cornelius." A hint of color suffused her cheeks, so
perhaps she knew that her gown was unfastened; or that Nealy had noticed.

Has she come to seduce me? Nealy wondered. There were wivmen enough who wanted
his seed. That would explain why she wore no coverslut over her gown. He knew
Other Ways of pleasuring, Other Ways of bringing a wif to ecstasy, riding atop a
rolling sea of pure joy. Sometimes Greta allowed him to use those Ways on her.
She would arch her back in rapture while he spelled, and give soft, little cries
-- though afterward she would often grow dread-full and beg him never to do it
again, even if she asked. Though she always did, she always did. And Nealy had
no choice but to obey.

"I'll not mump with you," Agnes said. "I crave a boon."

Of course, she did. They all did. Why else would she have come. "And what boon
is that?" Politeness came easy. Politeness cost nothing.

"My house-bound, sir Master. He has the fleas some'at bad; and I was wondering,
I was, if you could use your dweomercraeft to relieve him." She stood, twisting
the front of her gown in her fist, flushed in the face and looking down.



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"And you as well?" he asked with a half-smile. That which has touched an unclean
thing became itself unclean. See Leviticus. Yet, did she know how awe-full it
was what she asked of him?"You know the custom," he chided her. "You must
approach my rixler. Greta has gone but lately and. . . "