"Rebecca Neason - Highlander - The Path" - читать интересную книгу автора (Neason Rebecca)

not want to carry this regret forever.

MacLeod's assessment of Richie's libido might have been correct, but he
forgot about the young man's tenaciousness.

Like the Airedale terrier his curly hair made him resemble, whose jaws
closed upon prey and locked, not letting go until one of them was dead,
Richie would not so easily give up his original idea. He had bought
these tickets for himself and MacLeod-a gift for the teacher who had
given him so much.

And there was still a part of Richie that needed to prove hnself to
MacL4eod, that needed the older man's approval. The need was less
obvious than it had once been and manifested less frequently, but it was
there. So he returned to the dojo a few hours later determined to
persuade MacLeod to come with him to the peace rally.

He arrived at the martial arts school just as one group of members was
leaving. The dojo would be empty now for a couple of hours. Plenty of
time.

MacLeod was back in his office again. Richie waved at him as he hung
his jacket on a peg, then walked over and drew one of the practice
katanas off the wall. This, he knew, was one sure way to draw MacLeod
onto the floor. He would pretend not to watch at first, but soon he
would be out here correcting something in Richie's form, showing him how
a slight variation in balance or swing could make it more effactive-and
help him keep his head.

A few stretches to wake up his muscles and get the blood flowing, then
Richie began moving through the basic motions he had been taught: guard,
slice, thrust, upward cut, downward cut, diagonal lefk right, different
angles, entries, and parries, keeping his balance on the balls of his
feet, imagining an opponent's sword, his body, his head.

Soon Richie was sweating; his taut muscles warmed and

loosened. He allmost forgot about MacLeod as he tightened his focus on
what he was doing. Make the sword a part ofyourself, an extension
ofyour arm; in the past few years these words had become as familiar to
him as the sound of his own name. Extend your energy, your chi, to the
tip of the blade. Let the sword do the work"You dropped your left
shoulder on that one," said the famina voice behind him. "It left your
guard open. I could have disarmed you and taken your head."

Richie nearly smiled. MacLeod was just the right kind of predictable.
He turned to face his teacher. Duncan stood there with a sword in his
hand. It was not his own katana-he never drew that hghdit was the other
practice sword from the wag.