"Roberts, Nora - [magic & fantasy] - anthology" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

"He will not have me, in this world or any. He would have slain his own father in time if I had not destroyed Clud before him."
"You see the truth. This is vision."
"This is sense."
"Whatever you choose to name it," Rhee said with a wave of her hand. "But a king cannot rule without vanquishing his most feared foe. Or changing her. He will not rest until you are destroyed by death or by his kiss.
He goes through the portal to begin his own hunt. With every death from demon hands in that place, another here will die. This is the balance. This is the price."
"You speak in riddles. I will fetch the healer before I hunt."
"If you turn away," Rhee said as Kadra got to her feet, "if you choose the wrong path, all is lost. The world you know, the one you need to know. There is more than one key." Rhee breathed raggedly as her pain grew, took another clear globe from the folds of her skirt. "And more than one mirror."
She waved a hand toward the empty hearth. Fire, bright as gold, leaped into the cold shadow.
In it, Kadra saw another jungle. One of silver and black. Mountains
No, structures of great height surely they could not be huts rivers of black and white that had no current. Over them great armies of people marched. Over them battalions of animals on four round legs raced.
"What is this place?"
"A great village. They call it a city. A place where people live and work, where they eat and sleep. Where they live and die. This is called New
York, and it is there you'll find them. The demons you must stop, and the man who will help you."
Though fascinated, and just a bit frightened of the images in the flames,
Kadra smirked. "I need no man in battle."
"So you have been taught," Rhee said with a smile. "Perhaps you needed to believe you needed no one, no man, to become what you have become. Now you will become more. To do so, you will need this man. He is called Doyle, Harper Doyle."
"What good is a harper to a warrior?" Kadra demanded. "A fine warrior he'll make with his song and story as sword and shield."
"He is what you need. You will fail without him. Even with him there is great risk."
"Why should I believe any of this? Any witch might conjure pictures in a fire. Any woman might spin a tale as easily as thread."
"The stone in your crown of rank, those in your sword, I gave to you.
For strength, for clear vision, for valor, and last, for love. They were my tears when I gave you to your fate. In my eyes you see your own. In your heart, you see the truth. Now we must prepare."
Kadra set her hand on the hilt of her sword. "I am prepared."
With a heavy sigh, Rhee got to her feet. She walked to a wooden cupboard, took out a metal box. "Take this." She offered a bag of stones.
"Where you go," she explained, "they have great value."
Kadra looked into the bag of shining stones. "Then where I go is a very foolish place."
"In some ways. In others, fantastic." Rhee's expression was soft.
"You have much to see. I will give you what knowledge I can, but there are limits. Even for me." She held out her hands, gripped Kadra's before Kadra could draw back.
"The rest," she said, and glinting tears scored down her cheeks,
"is up to you, and the man called Doyle."
A great roar, like rushing water over cliffs, filled Kadra's head. In it were words, a hundred thousand words, spoken in countless tongues. A pressure, as a boulder laid on her heart, filled her chest.
The light was blinding.
"Valor and strength you have, my child. Use them on this journey wild.
But open yourself to vision, to love, before it's too late. Gather them close and face your fate. Would I could keep you safe with me," she murmured, and her lips brushed a kiss over Kadra's. "But once again I set you free."
The world whirled and spun. The air sucked her in, tumbled her, then spat her rudely out.

Chapter 2

Sprawled in bed, plagued by the mother of all hangovers, the man called
Doyle let out a surprised and pained grunt when a half-naked woman dropped on top of him.
He saw eyes of intense and burning green. Eyes, he thought wearily, that he'd been dreaming of moments before he'd awakened with a head the size of
Nebraska.
There was an instant of recognition, a strange and intimate knowledge, and with it a bone-deep longing. Then there was nothing but shock.
He had time to blink, a split second to admire what he was certain was a very creative hallucination, before the very sharp and very real point of a dagger pressed against his carotid artery.
"I am Kadra," the mostly naked and well-armed hallucination stated in a throaty voice as oddly familiar as her eyes. "Slayer of Demons."
"Okay, that's really interesting." If he'd been drunk and stupid enough the night before to bring a crazy woman back to his apartment, and couldn't even remember heating up the sheets with her, he deserved to get his throat cut.
But it really wasn't the way he wanted to start the day.
"Would you mind getting that pig-sticker away from my jugular? You're spoiling a perfectly good hangover."
Frowning, she sniffed at him, then used her free hand to pull up his top lip and study his teeth. Satisfied, she drew back the dagger, slid it handily into its wrist sheath.
"You are not a demon. You may live."
"Appreciate it." Going with instinct rather than sanity, Harper shoved her, snatched at the dagger. The next thing he knew, she'd executed a neat back flip off the bed, landed on her feet beside it. With a very big sword raised over her head.