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

She came to the bed and sat down on it. By his side.
Close enough that he could feel her warmth through the
blanket.

"What about your wards?" he managed.

She grinned. "His ex gave them a boost for me when we
reached shore. Why else do you think I rowed him there?"
The coat slid off one shoulder as she spoke; she wasn't
wearing very much under it. Maybe nothing at all. "The
way I figure it, we've just about completed the second most
dangerous voyage on the face of this planet, and so I'm
about due for a little celebrating. Right?" She cocked her
head and studied him. "Of course, if you're not interested . .
."

Women. Don't even try to understand them. You're just
not equipped.

"Hell I'm not," he muttered, and he reached for her.
 It was only later, in the depths of the night - much later
and after considerable exertion - that he thought to ask her
"What's the first most dangerous voyage?"

It was too dark to see, but he thought he sensed her
smile.

"Going home," she whispered.

Three

It was Sara's first time out.

Behind her, before her, all about her, the grim sentinels
of the One God kept watch for faeborn dangers. As they did
so they prodded her forward, pushing her when necessary,
cursing her stubbornness under their breath even as they
muttered the prayers of the Hunt. She was so afraid it was
hard to move, the terror constricted her limbs, she found it
hard to breathe . . . but that was good, she knew. Fear
would draw the nightborn. Fear would manifest demons
who were otherwise invisible. Fear would enable the
Church to do its holiest work . . . and she understood all
that, she understood the value of it, she just wished it didn't
have to be her in the center of all this, marching numbly at
the heart of this macabre procession while the faeborn
gathered just beyond the reach of their torchlight, eager for
the promised feast.
 Her.