"Jordan, Robert- WOT 6- Lord of Chaos (UC)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

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that herself, but she, had been taught to give those under her strength even when she had none herself, to soothe their fears, not infect them with her own.

"Perrin told me about his people before I ever came here," she said. He was not a man to brag, but things had a way of coming out. "When hail flattens your crops, when the winter kills half your sheep, you buckle down and keep going. When Trollocs devastated the Two Rivers, you fought back, and when you were done with them, you set about rebuilding without missing a step." Јhe would not have believed that without seeing for herself, not of southerners. These people would have done very well in Saldaea, where Trolloc raids were a matter of course, in the northern parts at least. "I cannot tell you the weather will be what it should tomorrow. I can tell you that Perrin and I will do what needs to be done, whatever can be done. And I don't need to tell you that you will take what each day brings, whatever it is, and be ready to face the next. That is the kind of people the Two Rivers breeds. That is who you are."

They truly were intelligent. If they had not admitted to themselves why they had come, they had to now. Had they been less intelligent, they might have taken umbrage. But even words they had said themselves before had the desired effect coming from someone else. Of course, that carried its own embarrassment. It was a proper muddle, and they were a study in crimson cheeks and unspoken wishes to be somewhere else.

"Well, of course," Daise said. Planting stout fists on ample hips, she stared at the other Wisdoms, daring them to gainsay her. "I've said as much, haven't I? The girl talks sense. I said as much when she first came here. That girl has a head on her, I said."

Edelle sniffed. "Did anyone say she didn't, Daise? I didn't hear it. She does very well." To Faile she added, "You do very well, indeed."

Milla bobbed a curtsy. "Thank you, Lady Faile. I know I've said the same to fifty people, but corning from you, somehow it—" A loud harrumph from Daise cut her short; that was going too far. Milla grew redder in the face.

'This is very nice work, my Lady." Elwinn leaned forward to finger the narrow, divided riding skirt that Faile favored. "There's a Taraboner seamstress down in Deven Ride who could

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do even better for you, though. If you don't mind my saying. I had a word with her, and she only makes decent dresses now, except for married women." That motherly smile came onto her face again, indulgent and iron at the same time. "Or if they're courting. Beautiful things, she makes. Why, sheM count it a pleasure to work with your coloring and figure."

Daise began smiling complacently before the other woman was done. "Therille Marza, right here in Emond's Field, is already making Lady Faile half a dozen dresses. And the most beautiful gown." Elwinn drew herself up, and Edelle pursed her lips, and even Milla looked thoughtful.

As far as Faile was concerned, the audience was over. The Domani seamstress required a firm hand and constant vigilance to keep her from dressing Faile for the court in Bandar Eban. The gown had been Daise's idea, sprung as a surprise, and even if it was in the Saldaean style rather than Domani, Faile did not know, where she was to wear it. It would be a long time before the Two Rivers ran to balls or promenades. Left to themselves, the Wisdoms would soon be competing to see which village would dress her.

She offered them tea, with a casual comment that they could discuss how to hearten the people about the weather. That hit too close to home, after the last few minutes, and they nearly tripped over themselves regretting duties that would not allow them to stay. *

Thoughtfully, she watched them go, Milla drawing up the rear as usual, a child tagging after older sisters. It might be possible to have a few quiet words with some of the Women's Circle in Taren Ferry. Each village needed a strong mayor and a strong Wisdom to stand up for their interests. Quiet, careful words. When Perrin had discovered she had been talking to the men in Taren Ferry before the election for mayor—if a man had good wits and was strong for her and Perrin, why should the men who were going to vote not know that she and Perrin returned that support?—when he found out.... He was a gentle man, slow to anger, but just to be safe she had barricaded herself in their bedroom until he cooled down. Which had not happened until she promised not to "interfere" again in any mayoral election, in the open or behind his back. That last had been most unfair of him. It was most inconvenient, too. But it had not occurred to him to

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mention Women's Circle voting. Well, what he did not know would do him a great deal of good. And Taren Ferry, too.

Thinking of him made her remember her promise to herself. The feathered fan picked up speed. Today had not been the worst for nonsense, and not even the worst with the Wisdoms—there had been no questions about when Lord Perrin could expect an heir, the Light be blessed!—but maybe the unrelenting heat had finally screwed her irritation to the sticking place. Perrin would do his duty, or....

Thunder rolled over the manor, and lightning lit the windows. Hope swelled inside her. If rain had come....

She ran silently on slippered feet, searching out Perrin. She wanted to share the rain with him. And she still intended a few firm words. More than a few, if necessary.

Perrin was where she expected, all the way up on the third floor, on the roofed porch at the front, a curly-haired man in a plain brown coat, with heavy shoulders and arms. Broad back to her, he was leaning against one of the porch columns. Staring down at the ground to one side of the manor, not up at the sky. Faile stopped in the doorway.

Thunder boomed again, and lightning sheeted blue across the sky. Heat lightning, in a cloudless'sky. Not a herald of rain. No rain to break heat. No snow to follow. Sweat beaded on her face, but she shivered.

"The audien&s is over?" Perrin said, and she jumped. He had not raised his head. It was difficult sometimes to remember how sensitive his hearing was. Or he could have smelled her; she hoped it was the perfume, not the sweat.