"Christopher Stasheff - Warlock 13 - Warlock's Last Ride" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

"Ah, then," Geoffrey said softly, "there is already a deep bond between you."

Alea turned to him in surprize. Already? What did he mean, already? But Quicksilver was nodding,
and Alea met her gaze. They stared straight into one another's eyes for a moment, and warrior

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recognized warrior. No, more—each knew how important the other's honor was to her, and knew in that
instant that they would be able to trust one another in battle for the rest of their lives, no matter how
much they quarreled in peacetime.

For they would quarrel, Alea felt sure of that—they would quarrel as naturally and easily as fox and
hound. But she would never quarrel with Allouette, for if she once began, she would tear the witch apart.

Quicksilver laughed, a low, melodious, and somehow very reassuring sound. She reached out for
Alea's hand, saying, "Come, battle-woman, for I think we shall be comrades in arms, you and I."

Alea thawed and stepped forward to take the offered hand, feeling a smile grow that she hadn't
known had started, and turned to walk with the warrior.

"That staff is ash, or I miss my guess," Quicksilver said. "Did you season it long, or find it already
sound?"

"I chose it from a fallen tree," Alea answered, and the two of them were off comparing aspects of
weapons. Cordelia followed with a barely cloaked smile and caught Allouette's hand through the crook
of her elbow, patting the fingers in reassurance.

But Gregory turned to Magnus, his face becoming grave. "Come, brother. Our mother awaits."

WHILE THE GALLOWGLASSES and their fiancees had been distracted with greeting, it had
been easy enough to distract them a little further, to project a thought assuring that they would only
notice one another, not a strange animal, and certainly not an alien—so Evanescent, stowaway from a
distant planet, with a huge globe of a head and a catlike body far too small for it, padded down the
gangway and scooted into the shelter of the surrounding trees. Once hidden, she turned to direct a
thought at the spaceship's computer, wiping a segment of its memory; it would never remember her
dashing down the ramp. She had deadened the sensors along her route between the hold and the airlock
so that the computer hadn't been aware of her exit, but it never hurt to make sure.

That done, she folded her stubby legs beneath her, settling down to watch the humans' reunion and
tasting the welter of their emotions. She was a very powerful telepath, easily more powerful than either
of her two humans, even more powerful than Gregory—a trait that had served her species well in its
scramble up the evolutionary ladder. Telepathy had warned them when enemies were coming;
teleportation and levitation had made it possible for them to flee; telekinesis had made it unnecessary for
them to develop hands. So she watched the humans' antics with amusement, enjoying the richness of
their feelings. What constant diversion they supplied! How strange and delightful were their angers and
hatreds and loves and delights! How subtle were the shadings of one emotion into another, how
delightfully paradoxical their ability to feel several different urges at once, how admirable their ability to
control them!