"Holly Lisle - World Gates 01 - Memory of Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lisle Holly)

And then, out of the tunnel of green fire, she erupted into a world of ice and snow and darkness, and all
doubts vanished. The men still held her captive, and one of them shouted, “Get ropes and a wagon—she
hurt Paith and Kevrad and Tajaro. We’re going to have to tie her.” She was in trouble—nothing good
would come of this.

“It’s only two leagues to Copper House.”

“She’ll kill one of us in that distance. Tie her.”

“But the Imallin said she’s not to be hurt.”

Other hands were grabbing her now—catching at her feet, locking on to her elbows and wrists, knees
and calves.

“Don’t hurt her,” said the one closest to her head. “Just tie her so she can’t hurt us, damnall. And
where’s that useless Gateman the Imallin found to make the gate? We still have people back there! Send
someone to get them out before he closes it!”

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Molly fought as hard as she could, but the men—thin and tall, but strong—forced her forward, adding
hands to hands on her arms and legs until she simply couldn’t move.

When she couldn’t fight, Molly relaxed her body completely. First, she wasn’t going to waste energy
uselessly. Second, if she stopped fighting, she might catch them off guard and be able to escape.

“Gateman—can you hold it?” someone was shouting behind her. “We’re going back for the others!”

“He’s worthless,” one of her captors muttered. “This was as close to the city as he could get us—a good
Gateman could have put the thing almost in the courtyard.”

“I don’t like the feel of the forest tonight, either,” the one closest to her said. “Keep the guards in tight.”

Molly’s bare feet stood on packed snow, and she wore nothing but flannel pajamas—when she stopped
fighting, that fact plunged into her consciousness with shocking speed.

“If you don’t get me some boots, and a coat, and maybe a hat and some gloves, you aren’t going to have
to worry about getting me where you’re going—because I’m going to freeze to death right here.”

Someone dragged a big, snorting animal through the dark toward her, and rattling behind the animal was
a big wooden farm-type wagon. But what the hell was the thing pulling it? It wasn’t a horse and it
wasn’t any variety of cow—it had a bit of a moose shape to it, and a hint of caribou, and some angles
that suggested bones where bones didn’t belong in any beast of burden Molly had ever seen. And its
eyes glowed hell-red in the darkness.

“You can do without the shoes and the coat,” the one who had done most of the talking said to her.