"Terry Goodkind - Sword of Truth 9 - Chainfire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goodkind Terry)

have to know. But if she knew, then why didn't she say? Why didn't she put
him at ease?
"If it hadn't been for him, we'd have been taken by surprise," said a man
standing off to the side. "He saved us all when he waylaid those soldiers
sneaking up on us."
"You have to help him," another man insisted.
Nicci impatiently waved her arm. "All of you, get out. This place is small
enough as it is. I can't afford the distraction right now. I need some quiet."
Lightning flashed again, as if the good spirits intended to deny her what
she needed. Thunder boomed with a deep, resonant threat of the storm
closing around them.
 "You'll send Cara out when you know something?" one of the men asked.
"Yes, yes. Go."
"And make sure there aren't any more soldiers around to surprise us," Cara
added. "Keep out of sight in case there are. We can't afford to be discovered
here—not right now."
Men swore to do her bidding. Hazy light spilled across a dingy plastered
wall when the door opened. As the men departed, their shadows ghosted
through the patch of light, like the good spirits themselves abandoning him.
On his way by, one of the men briefly touched Richard's shoulder—an
offer of comfort and courage. Richard vaguely recognized the face. He hadn't
seen these men for quite a while. The thought occurred to him that this was
no way to have a reunion. The light vanished as the men pulled the door
closed behind themselves, leaving the room in the gloom of light coming
from the single window.
"Nicci," Cara pressed in a low voice, "you can heal him?"
Richard had been on his way to meet up with Nicci when troops sent to
put down the uprising against the brutal rule of the Imperial Order had
accidentally come upon his secluded camp. His first thought, just before the
soldiers had blundered upon him, had been that he had to find Nicci. A spark
of hope flared down into the darkness of his frantic worry; Nicci could help
him.
Now Richard needed to get her to listen.
As she leaned close, her hand sliding around under him, apparently trying
to see how close the arrow came to penetrating all the way through his back,
Richard managed to clutch her black dress at the shoulder. He saw that his
hand glistened with blood. He felt more running back across his face when he
coughed.
Her blue eyes turned to him. "Everything will be all right, Richard. Lie
still." A skein of blond hair slipped forward over her other shoulder as he
tried to pull her closer. "I'm here. Calm down. I won't leave you. Lie still. It's
all right. I'm going to help you."
Despite how smoothly she covered it, panic lurked in her voice. Despite
her reassuring smile, her eyes glistened with tears. He knew then that his
wound might very well be beyond her ability to heal.
That only made it all the more important that he get her to listen.
Richard opened his mouth, trying to speak. He couldn't seem to get
enough air. He shivered with cold, each breath a struggle that produced little
more than a wet rattle. He couldn't die, not here, not now. Tears stung his
eyes.