"David Eddings. Castle of wizardry enchanters' end game (The Belgariad, Part two)" - читать интересную книгу автора

who sat, relieved, but still apprehensive about Belgarath's true
condition, beside Adara. "I see that you've met your cousin," she observed.
"Who?"
"Don't sit there with your mouth open, Garion," she advised him. "It
makes you look like an idiot. Adara's the youngest daughter of your
mother's sister. Haven't I ever told you about her?"

It all came crashing in on him. "Aunt Pol!" he protested. "How could
you forget something that important?"
But Adara, obviously as startled by the announcement as he had been,
gave a low cry, put her arms about his neck and kissed him warmly. "Dear
cousin!" she exclaimed.
Garion flushed, then went pale, then flushed again. He stared first at
Aunt Pol, then at his cousin, unable to speak or even to think coherently.

Chapter Seven
IN THE DAYS that followed while the others rested and Aunt Pol nursed
Belgarath back to health, Garion and his cousin spent every waking moment
together. From the time he had been a very small child he had believed
that Aunt Pol was his only family. Later, he had discovered that Mister
Wolf-Belgarath - was also a relative, though infinitely far removed. But
Adara was different. She was nearly his own age, for one thing, and she
seemed immediately to fill that void that had always been there. She
became at once all those sisters and cousins and younger aunts that others
seemed to have but that he did not.
She showed him the Algar Stronghold from top to bottom. As they
wandered together down long, empty corridors, they frequently held each
others' hands. Most of the time, however, they talked. They sat together
in out-of the-way places with their heads close together, talking,
laughing, exchanging confidences and opening their hearts to each other.
Garion discovered a hunger for talk in himself that he had not suspected.
The circumstances of the past year had made him reticent, and now all that
flood of words broke loose. Because he loved his tall, beautiful cousin,
he told her things he would not have told any other living soul.
Adara responded to his affection with a love of her own that seemed as
deep, and she listened to his outpourings with an attention that made him
reveal himself even more.
"Can you really do that?" she asked when, one bright winter afternoon,
they sat together in an embrasure high up in the fortress wall with a
window behind them overlooking the vast sea of winter-brown grass
stretching to the horizon. "Are you really a sorcerer?"
"I'm afraid so," he replied.
"Afraid?"
"There are some pretty awful things involved in it, Adara. At first I
didn't want to believe it, but things kept happening because I wanted them
to happen, It finally reached the point where I couldn't doubt it any
more."
"Show me," she urged him.
He looked around a bit nervously. "I don't really think I should," he
apologized. "It makes a certain kind of noise, you see, and Aunt Pol can