"7 Pillars of Creation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goodkind Terry)

Jermsen thought of what this much money could mean. She nodded. "My mother has had a hard life. She could use it. I will give it to my mother. "
"I hope it helps you both, then. Let it be this man's last good acthelping you and your mother."
"Your hands are warm." By the look in his eyes, she thought she knew why. She said no more.
He nodded and confirmed her suspicion. "I've got a touch of fever. I came down with it this morning. When we get finished with this business I'm hoping to get to the next town and rest up in a dry room for a while. I just need some rest to regain my strength."
"Town is too far for you to make today."
"You sure? I can make good time. I'm used to traveling."
"So am I," Jennsen said, "and it takes me most of a day to make it. There's only a couple of hours of light left-and we have yet to finish with this task. Not even a fast horse would get you near town today."
Sebastian let out a sigh. "Well, I guess I'll make do."
He knelt again and rolled the soldier partway over in order to unstrap the knife. The sheath, fine-grain black leather, was trimmed with silver to match the handle and decorated with the same ornate emblem. On one knee, Sebastian held the gleaming, sheathed knife up to her.
"Silly to bury such a fine weapon. Here you go. Better than that piece of junk you showed me before."
Jennsen stood stunned and confused. "But, you should keep it."
"I'll take the others. More to my taste anyway. The knife is yours. Sebastian's rule."
"Sebastian's rule?"
"Beauty belongs with beauty."
Jennsen blushed at the intended compliment. But this was not a thing of beauty. He had no idea of the ugliness this represented.
"Any idea what the 'R' in the hilt stands for?"
Oh yes, she wanted to say. She knew only too well what it represented. That was the ugliness.
"It stands for the House of Rahl."
"House of Rahl?"
"Lord Rahl-the ruler of D'Hara," she said in simple explanation of a nightmare.

CHAPTER 3
By the time they were finished with the laborious task of covering the troublesome body of the dead D'Haran soldier, Jennsen's arms were weak with fatigue. The damp wind scything through her clothes felt like it cut to the bone. Her ears and nose and fingers were numb.
Sebastian's face was covered in a sheen of sweat.
But the dead man was at last buried under gravel and then rocks that were in abundance at the base of the cliff. Animals were not likely to be able to dig through all the heavy stone to get at the body. The worms would feast undisturbed.
Sebastian had said a few simple words, asking the Creator to welcome the man's soul into eternity. He made no plea for mercy in His judgment, and neither did Jennsen.
As she finished scattering gravel with a heavy branch and her feet, obscuring the marks left by their work, she gave the area a critical examination and was relieved to see that no one would ever suspect that a person lay buried there. If soldiers came through they wouldn't realize that one of their own had met his end here. They would have no reason to question local people, except, perhaps, to ask if anyone had seen him. That would be a simple enough lie to feed them and one easily swallowed.
Jennsen pressed her hand against Sebastian's forehead. It confirmed her fears. "You're burning with fever."
"We're done, now. I can rest more easily, not having to worry that soldiers will be rousting me out of my bedroll to ask me questions at the point of a sword."
She wondered where he was going to sleep. The drizzle was thickening. She expected it would soon be raining. Given the persistence of the darkening clouds, once it started it would likely rain the whole night. Cold rain soaking him to the skin would only further inflame his fever. Such a winter rain could easily kill someone who lacked proper shelter.
She watched as Sebastian strapped the weapons belt around his waist. He didn't place the axe at the small of his back the way the soldier had worn it, but rather positioned it at his right hip. After testing its edge and finding it satisfactory, he fastened the short sword to the left side of the belt. Both weapons were placed so as to come readily to hand.
When he'd finished he flipped his heavy green cloak closed over it all. He seemed again a simple traveler. She suspected he was more. He had his secrets. He wore them casually, almost in the open. She wore hers uneasily, and held close.
He handled the sword with the kind of smooth ease that came only with long acquaintance. She knew because she handled a knife with effortless grace, and such proficiency had come only with experience and continual practice. Some mothers taught their daughters to sew and cook. Jermsen's mother didn't think sewing would save her daughter. Not that a knife would, either, but it was better protection than needle and thread.
Sebastian lifted the dead man's pack and threw back the flap. "We'll divide the supplies. Do you want the pack?"
"You should keep the supplies and the pack," Jennsen said as she retrieved her stringer of fish.
He agreed with a nod. He appraised the sky as he cinched the pack closed. "I'd best be on my way, then."
"Where?"
His weary eyelids blinked at the question. "No place special. Traveling. I guess I'll walk for a while and then I suppose I'd better try to find some shelter. "
"Rain is coming," she said. "It doesn't take a prophet to tell that."
He smiled. "Guess not." His eyes bore the prospect of what lay ahead with resigned acceptance. He swiped his hand back over his wet spikes of white hair, then pulled up his hood. "Well, take care of yourself, Jermsen Daggett. Give my best to your mother. She raised a lovely daughter."
Jermsen smiled and acknowledged his words with a single nod. She
stood facing the damp wind as she watched him turn and start off across. the flat expanse of gravel. Craggy rock walls rose up all around, their snow-crusted shoulders disappearing into the low gray overcast that concealed the bulk of the mountains and the nearly endless range of high peaks.
It seemed so funny, so freakish, so futile that in all this vast country their paths should cross so briefly, at that instant in time, for such a tragic moment as one life ended, and then that they would both go off again into that infinite oblivion of life.
Jennsen's heart pounded in her ears as she listened to his footsteps crunching across the jagged gravel, watched his long strides carrying him away. With a sense of urgency, she debated what she should do. Was she always to turn away from people? To hide?
Was she always to forfeit even small snatches of what it was to live life because of a crime she did not commit? Dare she risk this?
She knew what her mother would say. But her mother loved her dearly, and so would not say it out of cruelty.
"Sebastian?" He looked back over his shoulder, waiting for her to speak. "If you don't have shelter, you may not live to see tomorrow. I wouldn't like it if I knew you were out here with a fever getting soaked to the skin."
He stood watching her, the drizzle drifting between them.
"I wouldn't like that, either. I'll mind your words and do my best to find some shelter."
Before he could turn away again, she lifted her hand, gesturing off in the other direction. She saw that her fingers were trembling. "You could come home with me."