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

land, where the very earth serves my will . . . he almost
bested me." His expression was tight, but the emotion
causing it was hard to read. Anger? Humiliation? The
Hunter had never handled defeat well. "I spent five hundred
years making the Forest into a haven which neither man nor
godling might threaten. It survived wars and crusades and
natural disasters and was as much a part of me as the flesh
that I wore . . . and he took me on there. There! Tricked me,
and put my very soul in jeopardy . . ."

He drew in a deep breath, slowly. Trying to calm
himself. "If the Forest is no longer my refuge, then no place
will ever be. I could hide myself away with my books and
my conjurings for a month, a year, a century . . . but the
threat would always be there. Will always be there, until I
deal with it." The pale eyes fixed on Damien. "You
understand?"

"I think so."

"You've always distrusted me . . . which is appropriate, I
assure you. But the day may come when that will be a
dangerous luxury. Our relationship has been strained even
here, on this ship, and I know you've had your doubts about
the wisdom of our alliance. That'll only get worse as time
goes on. Our enemy seems adept at reading our fears and
turning them against us - perhaps even feeding on them -
and so I thought it best if you understood why I was here.
How much is at stake for me in this venture. I thought that
knowledge would be worth more than anything I could say
about trustworthiness, or loyalty."

He could feel the power in those pale eyes as they
studied him, weighing his soul for reaction. And for an
instant - just an instant - it seemed to him that he could
sense the uncertainty that lay hidden within their depths,
the terrible vulnerability within the man. Because when all
was said and done, the Hunter was no more comfortable
with their alliance than he was. It was a sobering thought.

"I understand," he said quietly.

I swore I'd kill him. He knows that when this is over I'll
try. How fragile is the thread that binds us together? Even
more important: how fragile does he perceive it to be?

With consummate grace the Neocount swung himself
over the ship's railing and onto the narrow rope ladder
beneath. The natural grace of a predator, Damien thought.
As repelled as he was fascinated by the insight. When