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

when it would erupt into colors and images, showing her all that her eyes had learned to
do without—but most of the time her Sight came in patterns of light and shadow that
dwelt within the heart of living auras. It had taken her a long time to perfect her
understanding and use.
Now, however, her Sight was under her control, coming or going at her summoning. It
also came with color now, and gave her true images whenever she needed, images she
combined with the auras for even greater healing skills.
Along with her Sight, Lysandra now possessed the gift of Far-Seeing, where her inner
vision revealed things at a distance. And, as the Scroll of Tambryn had named her, she
was also Prophecy’s Hand; her Sight now looked into the future as well as the present.
Amazing as all this was to her, there was one gift so awe-inspiring that Lysandra
hardly dared think on it. Each time she did, she was still stunned that she should have
been its instrument. Manifest through both her Sight and touch, it was the gift of true
healing, and it had come only once—to heal Eiddig from the wound of Aurya’s dagger.
Had this been a gift from the great Divine on whom the Cryf called with such
unbending faith, a one-time miracle given for the sake of a beloved servant? Or, Lysandra
scarcely dared to believe, was this given to her, a supernatural fulfillment of who and
what she was meant to be?
This question, like so many others, had whirled through her thoughts throughout the
three weeks since they had returned to her cottage. As yet, she had no answer, and she
was certain there would be none while they remained here. It had been important to stop
and rest and to regain their strength, as important as it had once been to leave. But now
the time to leave had come again. Lysandra knew it; Renan knew it— it was only Selia
who would not accept it.
Cloud-Dancer brushed against Lysandra’s thigh as she put her hand to the door latch.
As always, his presence made her smile, and she automatically reached down, running her
fingers into the thick, soft silver-and-white fur that covered his head and neck. Together,
they entered the cottage, leaving Renan alone in the sun-washed garden.
Lysandra heard the younger woman in the kitchen. This had become a favorite place
of Selia’s, the kitchen and the medicine pantry beyond where Lysandra set the herbs to
dry and stored the prepared unguents and syrups, salves and simples for use. Their
production seemed to fascinate Selia. Although Lysandra was grateful for the help and
glad to teach both Selia and Renan what she knew, it was not Selia’s destiny to spend her
coming years as a healer’s apprentice.
While Cloud-Dancer went to curl up in his favorite spot by the fireplace, Lysandra
headed for the kitchen. She summoned up her Sight so that she could watch Selia as they
spoke. It was not that she thought the younger woman would try to deceive her—but she
might try to deceive herself, and Lysandra needed to be aware and help her accept the
truth.
It would not be easy. Unlike most humans, Selia possessed the ability to keep her
inner self carefully hidden away, even from Lysandra. How much of this was innate and
how much had been learned through her pain-filled childhood, Lysandra did not know.
But what her empathy might miss, her Sight would not, and Lysandra intended to make
full use of it now. Honed through a decade of practice, Lysandra would be able to read
Selia’s true emotions on her face, and in the changes to the aura that surrounded her.
When she entered the kitchen, and Selia turned to greet her, her aura was clear, bright
as sunlight reflecting on a mountain lake. But Lysandra knew it would not last, and she
was sorry for that, sorry that she must be the one to destroy Selia’s happy, contented
humor.
“The marigold salve is almost finished,” she told Lysandra proudly. “I’ll be sealing the