"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 01 - Daggerspell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

fight over a woman that neither could rightfully have.

She had been reborn.

Somewhere in the kingdom, she was a new babe, lying in her exhausted mother’s arms. Dimly he saw
it in vision: the pretty young mother’s face, bathed in sweat from the birth but smiling at the babe at her
breast. When the Vision faded, he jumped to his feet in sheer excitement. The Lords of Wyrd had been
kind. This time they were sending him a warning that somewhere she was waiting for him to bring her to
the dweomer, somewhere in the vast expanse of the kingdom of Deverry. He could search and find her
while she was still a child, before harsh circumstances made it impossible for him to untangle the snarl of
their intertwined destinies. This time, perhaps, she would remember and listen to him. Perhaps. If he
found her.
 Cerrgonney, 1052



Theyoungfooltellshismasterthathewillsuffertogainthedweomer.Whyisheafool?Becausethedweomer
hasalreadymadehimpayandpayandpayagainbeforeheevenstoodonitsdoorstep....

TheSecretBookofCadwallontheDruid




With a cold drizzling rain, the last of the twilight was closing in like gray steel. As she looked at the
sky, Jill was frightened to be outside. She hurried to the woodpile and began to grab an untidy load of
firewood. A gray gnome, all spindly legs and long nose, perched on a big log and picked at its teeth while
it watched her. When she dropped a stick, it snatched it and refused to give it back.

“Beast!” Jill snapped. “Then keep it!”

At her anger, the gnome vanished with a puff of cold air. Half in tears, Jill hurried across the muddy
yard to the round stone tavern, where cracks of cheerful light gleamed around wooden shutters.
Clutching her firewood, she ran down the corridor to the chamber and slipped in, hesitating a moment at
the door. The priestess in her long black robe was kneeling by Mama’s bed. When she looked up, Jill
saw the blue tattoo of the crescent moon that covered half her face.

“Put some wood on the fire now, child,” the priestess said. “I need more light.”

Jill picked out the thinnest pitchiest sticks and fed them carefully into the fire burning in the hearth. The
flames sprang up, sending flares and shadows dancing round the room. Jill sat down on the
straw-covered floor in a corner to watch the priestess. Mama lay very still, her face a deadly pale,
running big drops of sweat from the fever. The priestess picked up a silver jar and helped Mama drink
the herb water in it. Mama was coughing so hard that she couldn’t keep the water down.

Jill grabbed her rag doll and held her tight. She wished that Heledd was real, and that she’d cry so Jill
could be very brave and comfort her. The priestess set the silver jar down, wiped Mama’s face, then
began to pray, whispering the words in the ancient holy tongue that only priests and priestesses knew. Jill
prayed, too, in her mind, begging the Holy Goddess of the Moon to let her mama stay alive.