"C. S. Friedman - Coldfire 1 - Black Sun Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

But though he came close - too close - it was only to touch her chin with the
tip of a well-manicured finger, turning her face up toward him. “So fragile,” he
murmured. “So fine. And alone in the night. Not wise. Would you like an escort?”
She whispered it. “Please.”
He offered his arm. After a moment, she took it. An antiquated gesture,
straight out of the Revival period. Her hand shook slightly as it came to rest on
the wool of his sleeve. No warmth came from the arm beneath, or any other part
of him; he was cold - he radiated cold - like the night itself. Just as she, despite
her best intentions, radiated fear.
Gods above, she prayed, just get me home. I’ll be more careful in the future,
I swear it. Just get me home tonight. It seemed to her he smiled. “You’re afraid,
child.” She didn’t dare respond. Just let me get through tonight. Please.
“Of what? The darkness? The night itself?”
She knew she shouldn’t speak of such things, but she couldn’t hold back; his
voice compelled response. “The creatures that hunt in it,” she whispered.
“Ah.” He laughed softly. “And for good reason. They do value your kind,
child, that feed on the living. But these -” and he touched the wards
embroidered on her sleeve, the warding clasps that held back her hair “- don’t
they bind enough fae to guard you?”
 Enough to keep away demons, she thought. Or so it should have been. But
now, suddenly, she wasn’t sure.
He put his hand beneath her chin, turning her gently to face him. Where his
fingers touched her flesh there was cold, but not merely a human chill; it burned
her, as a spark of fire might, and left her skin tingling as it faded. She felt
strangely disassociated from the world around her, as if all of it was a dream. All
of it except for him.
“Do I read you correctly?” he asked. “Have you never seen the night
before?”
“It’s dangerous,” she whispered.
“And very beautiful.”
His eyes were pools of silver, molten, that drew her in. She shivered. “My
parents thought it best.”
“Never been outside, when sun and Core had set. Never! I wasn’t aware the
fear had reached such an extreme here. Even now . . . you don’t look. You won’t
see.”
“See what?” she managed.
“The night. The beauty of it. The power. The so-called dark fae, a force so
fragile that even the moonlight weakens it - and so strong in the darkness that
death itself falls back before it. The tides of night, each with its own color and
music. An entire world, child! - filled with things that can’t exist when the light in
the heavens is too strong.”
“Things which the sun destroys.”
He smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “Just so.”
“I’ve never been allowed.”
“Then look now,” he whispered. “And see.”
She did - in his eyes, which had gone from pale gray to black, and from
black to dizzying emptiness. Stars swirled about her, in a dance so complex that
no human science could have explained it - but she felt the rhythms of it echo in
her soul, in the pattern of mud beneath her feet, in the agitated pounding of her
heart. All the same dance, earth and stars alike. This is Earth science, she