"Barbara Hambly - Sun Wolf 2 - Witches of Wenshar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

crystal flashed from the worked medallions of sacred signs; even the
sleeves of his white under-robe were stitched with tiny seed pearls.
Under all that finery, the old man would have been as pretty as a girl
before he grew his beard; full, slightly pouting red lips showed beneath
the silky white mustaches; the eyes with their snowy lashes were the
clear blue of morning sky.
In a soft, light voice, the Bishop went on, "It is fellowship of
worship that binds men together in trust, Nanciormis. You have
converted to the true faith of the Triple God, but can the same be said
of the shirdar in the guards? It can not. They cling to their old
superstitions, their familial cults and wind djinns. How can any true
worshiper believe their oaths?"
"I'm sure they can't," Starhawk remarked, lying half-slouched in
her chair and regarding him with mild gray eyes. "But the question's
rather academic, isn't it, since the Doctrines of Calcedus say that true
worshipers aren't obliged to keep oaths made to the followers of untrue
gods."
The old Bishop spread his hands deprecatingly. "We are doves in
the midst of serpents, Warlady," he explained. "We need such
subterfuge to survive."
She studied the obvious wealth and power reflected in those
splendid robes and glanced over at Sun Wolf. "I never met a Trinitarian
yet who didn't have a good explanation for everything."
The Bishop inclined his white head. "It is because all truths are
revealed to us by Holy Scripture."
There was a stirring in the shadows beyond the fireplace; Sun
Wolf had already, in his automatic identification of every potential exit
from the room, seen the narrow door half-hidden beside the blackened
granite of the mantle. Now Kaletha stepped through into the light,
followed by another one of her disciples, the only one that afternoon
who had not, like her, worn black. Since what he did wear was the
blue and gold habit of a Trinitarian novice, he was naturally taken
aback when he saw the Bishop. He said, rather loudly, "As I told you,
my Lady Kaletha, the King is in his bedchamber beyond the solar."
"Thank you, Egaldus." Kaletha inclined her head graciously and
moved toward the dais in a queenly swishing of homespun black robes.
After a second's hesitation, the young man, fair-haired and rather
nervous looking, turned with clearly manufactured decisiveness and
went bustling away in the other direction. Sun Wolf's glance slid to the
Bishop, but the old man didn't seem to suspect anything; he was
watching Kaletha's approach with a disapproving eye.
"A pity," he said, "that the only healer in the fortress should be a
witch."
Kaletha paused on the outside of the ring of firelight, regarding
them with an expression that could have nipped spring flowers in their
buds. Sun Wolf, feeling that frigid glance pause for a moment on him
before passing on, was suddenly conscious of the dust in his clothes
and hair and the bruises from the fight that marked his face; Kaletha
looked away, as if to say one could have expected to find Sun Wolf on
hand in the aftermath of a brawl. To the Bishop she said, "We've been