"L. E. Modesitt - Recluce 04 - The Chaos Balance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

and then some.
"The tea is cold-for you." Blynnal laughed, then struck the chimes again.
Huldran grinned and glanced at the smith.
"You'll need that tea, too," Nylan predicted.
"Probably, but it's a lot better than the slop poor Kadran fixed."
As Nylan walked into the entryway, Siret stood by the nursery with Kyalynn, waiting. Smiling at
the tall silver-haired guard and mother of his other daughter, the smith wondered if the two
silver-haired guards had an informal arrangement as to which child he would see before the noon
meal. Still, he had to admit he looked forward to seeing the children, more than a little.
"How is she?" he asked.
"Sleepy. She was restless last night. Teeth, I think. Ayrlyn touched her, but there is no
chaos, just a trace of white around her teeth. I felt it, but I wasn't sure."
Nylan cradled Kyalynn in his left arm, and she looked up with a yawn, the dark green eyes
mirrors of her mother's, her hands slowly reaching toward Nylan's face. "Waaaa... dan!"
"Somehow, I don't think she's asking for water," Nylan observed. "I'll probably wake her up,
and she'll be cranky all night."
"That won't be any change from last night."
"So you were a grumpy girl, and you kept your mother up all night, all the time. That wasn't a,
nice thing to do..."
"Waaaa-daa-da . . . ooo . . ."
"No, it wasn't. It really wasn't."
Kyalynn yawned again, as Nylan rocked her, then once more, and shut her eyes. Shortly, a snort
and a soft snore followed.
"You can always get her to sleep," said Siret.
"That's true," the smith said. "When I talk, I can put anyone to sleep, especially if I talk
about building something." But the building was done, mostly, and now he was a weapons smith,
forging more destruction. Did it always take force and more force?
He walked slowly toward the nursery and the corner bed that was Kyalynn's. There he eased her
down, and patted her back gently for a moment, murmuring softly, until he was certain she would
sleep.
Nylan glanced at the bed beside Kyalynn's, and patted a sleeping Dyliess on the back for a
moment. Half the time in the nursery he still felt amazed.
Antyl smiled from the inside corner where she nursed her own son Jakon, rocking slightly in the
plain wooden rocker that all the guards had helped craft early in the long winter.
Istril was burping Weryl, but she studiously avoided looking at Siret or Nylan, confirming the
smith's suspicions about the oh - so - casual prearrangements.
Nylan and Siret eased out of the nursery and toward the great room.
"She still looks like you," the engineer said quietly.
"She takes things in like you do. She sees them, and she doesn't make a fuss, but she knows-I
swore she could feel you healers when you worked on Llyselle's hand. Her eyes got wide, and she
just watched."
"Could be," mused Nylan, stopping at the end of the lowest table. The aromas of mint and spice
and bread filled the room. "We both have the talent. You'll have to be careful when she gets


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older."
"She might be too sensitive? I've thought of that." Siret nodded, then gestured. "I can see the