"Rebecca Neason - 13th Scroll 02 - The Truest Power" - читать интересную книгу автора (Neason Rebecca)

Contents

Map

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Epilogue

Appendices




To Betsy Mitchell, editor and friend. I will miss you.




THE TRUEST POWER


Chapter One

Lysandra sat on the stone bench at the center of her garden, enjoying a moment of
stillness. This was one of those rare spaces in activity where it felt as if the whole world
was holding its breath. No bee buzzed or bird chirped; no creature, human or animal,
moved; no tree rustled in the afternoon breeze. There was nothing but warmth and
silence and peace. These moments never lasted more than a few heartbeats. Soon, the
waiting world would exhale, and the activity of life would begin again. But for this brief
instant, Lysandra’s spirit basked in the preternatural silence and was refreshed.
There, a bird made the first call... a bee flew to the next flower... the moment was gone
in a soft but unmistakable passing. Lysandra, too, exhaled. From within her cottage, she
heard the sound of voices—first Selia’s, then Renan’s response. Soon, footsteps entered
the growing richness of being, ones Lysandra recognized as much with her heart as with
her ears.
She moved slightly to one side, making room for Renan to join her on the bench. She
did not bother to call upon her Sight; although once it was a spurious gift that came and
went by a pattern she could neither name nor control, now she had but to need it, and it
was there. But she did not need it for Renan. His footsteps, like his presence, were now
almost as well-known to her as her own.
When they had met, his thoughts and emotions had been completely shielded from
her. It had been a unique relief to Lysandra. For the last ten years, the nearness of other
humans had been a painful experience in which her mind was bombarded by all the
thoughts, all the needs and hopes, fears and sorrows humans unwittingly projected. Most
human minds were like a sieve through which all these, and more, ran in a constant,
unstoppable flow—and she caught them all. It was a large part of why she chose and
protected her solitude.