"C. S. Friedman - Coldfire 2 - When True Night Falls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

Tarrant stood at the bow of the ship, his pale eyes
narrowed against the Corelight. His gloved hands were
tight about the railing, and Damien was sure that if he could
have seen his knuckles they would have been white with
tension. The man's whole body was rigid, his attention
wholly fixed on the shore beyond. Trying to Know? At last
he relaxed, and exhaled heavily. Frustrated.

"Still too deep," he murmured. "I had hoped . . ." He
shook his head.

"You can't tell anything?"

The silver eyes flashed with irritation. "I didn't say that."
He stared at the shoreline for a moment longer, nostrils
distended as if to sift scents from the evening breeze.
"Life," he murmured at last. Hungrily. "There's human life
there, in quantity. The currents are full of it. Rich with fear
. . ." His lips tensed slightly. A smile? "But that's not your
concern, is it?"
 "What else?" Damien asked stiffly.

"Civilization. But you guessed that, of course - from the
cannon. They're organized enough to defend themselves,
and disciplined enough to use gunpowder."

"And they have something to defend themselves from."

The pale eyes fixed on him, molten gold in the
Corelight. "Yes. There is that."

"Our enemy?"

"Perhaps. But who can say what form that evil has
taken, here in its native land? I would be wary of anything -
even civilization - until we discover its foundation."

"You can't tell?"

"All I can do now is look at the currents of power, and
guess at the forces that molded them. If I could draw on the
earth-fae, I might be able to conjure a more comprehensible
image . . . but as of now, those are my limits. One might
look at a river current and guess at its origins, based upon
the sediment it carries, but one could hardly tell from that
what manner of boat last sailed in it. These currents are no
different."
 "We'll have to wait until we land, then. Damn."