"Mercedes Lackey & Larry Dixon - Mage Wars 01 - The Black Gryphon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

respect. And she was good, very good, provided that the patient didn't give a hung-claw about bedside
manner or empathy. Aubri was clearly used to treatment like this; he simply absorbed the Healing quietly
and made neither comment nor complaint when she had finished.
But for the rest of her duties—those, she scanted on. She did not see that Aubri was comfortable.
She did not inquire as to any other injuries he might have, other than the obvious. She did not ask him if
there was anything he needed. She simply gave Tamsin and Cinnabar another curt nod, ignored Skan
altogether, and left.
No one said a word.
"Well!" Cinnabar said into the silence. "If that is the quality of Healers these days, I should have
Urtho look into where that—woman—got her training!" Tamsin nodded gravely, but Cinnabar's
expression suddenly turned thoughtful.
"Odd," she muttered. "I could have sworn I'd seen her before, but where?"
But a moment later, she shook her head, and turned to Aubri and said, "I'll have one of my personal
hertasi come see to your needs until we can get Jewel back for you. Is there anything I can do for you
now?"
Aubri's ear-tufts pricked up in surprise. "Ah—no, thank you, my lady," he replied, struggling to hide
his amazement. "I'm really quite comfortable, actually."
"Well, if there is, make sure someone sends me word." Having disposed of the problem, Cinnabar
turned back to Skan. "Do you think you can keep your temper in check when that one comes back?"
she asked. "If you can't, I'll have Aubri moved so you won't have to encounter her again."
"I won't promissssse," Skan rumbled, "but I will trrrry." It was a measure of his anger that he was
hissing his sibilants and rolling his r's again.
"I won't ask more of you than that," Cinnabar replied, her eyes bright with anger as she glanced at
the still-waving tent flap. "It is all I could expect from myself."
Tamsin mumbled something; perhaps he had forgotten that a gryphon's hearing was as acute as his
eyesight. It would have been inaudible to a human, but Skan heard him quite distinctly.
"I must speak with Amberdrake about that one...."
Tamsin chewed his lower lip for a moment, his brow wrinkled a little with worry, and then sighed.
"Well, greatest of the sky-warriors," he said lightly, with a teasing glance to the side, "I think you won't
have any real need for us in the next few hours, so we'll go tend to those with greater hurts and smaller
egos."
Skan pretended to be offended, and Aubri snorted his amusement; Cinnabar lost some of her anger
as her lover took her hand and led her out.
Aubri settled back down, wincing a little as burns rubbed against bandages. Skan arranged himself
in his own nest of cushions with a care to his healing bones and watched his tent-mate with anticipation,
hoping for another battle of wits. But the Healing had tired Aubri considerably, and the easing of some of
his pain had only left an opening for his exhaustion to move in, assassinlike, to strike him down. Before
either of them had a chance to think of anything to say, Aubri's eyes had closed, and he was whistling.
Skan snorted. "Told you," he whispered to the sleeping gryphon.
At least the poor thing was finally getting some sleep. Skan was only too well aware that Aubri's
sleep had been scant last night and punctuated by long intervals of wakeful, pain-filled restlessness. Skan
had wondered then why his tent-mate's Trondi'irn hadn't come to ensure that the gryphon at least got
some sleep. Well, now he knew why.
Because this "Winterhart" doesn't care for us. We're just weapons to her; weapons that have
the convenient feature of being able to find their own targets. All she cares for is how quickly she
can get us repaired and back on the front line again. She might as well be fletching arrows.
Winterhart wasn't the only person in Urtho's forces to think that way; unfortunately, two of Urtho's
commanders, General Shaiknam of the Sixth and his next-in-command, Commander Garber, had the
same attitude. Urtho's most marvelous creations meant the same as a horse or a hawk or a hound to
them. If a gryphon didn't do precisely as ordered, no matter if the orders flew in the face of good sense,