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

intended to ask. "Right now, I mean, in the middle of wintertime," she
added.
Garion looked at the dry, scrubby bit of gorse, putting the sequence of
what he'd have to do together. "I suppose I could," he replied, "but if I
did that in the wrong season, the bush wouldn't have any defense against
the cold, and it would die."
"It's only a bush, Garion."
"Why kill it?"
She avoided his eyes. "Could you make something happen for me, Garion?"
she asked. "Some small thing. I need something to believe in very much
just now."
"I can try, I guess." He did not understand her suddenly somber mood.
"How about something like this?" He picked up a twig and turned it over in
his hands, looking carefully at it. Then he wrapped several strands of dry
grass around it and studied it again until he had what he wanted to do
firmly in his mind. When he released his will on it, he did not do it all
at once, so the change was gradual. Adara's eyes widened as the
sorry-looking clump of twig and dry grass was transmuted before her.
It really wasn't much of a flower. It was a kind of pale lavender
color, and it was distinctly lopsided. It was quite small, and its petals
were not very firmly attached. Its fragrance, however, was sweet with all
the promise of summer. Garion felt very strange as he wordlessly handed
the flower to his cousin. The sound of it had not been that rushing noise
he'd always associated with sorcery, but rather was very much like the
bell-tone he'd heard in the glowing cave when he'd given life to the colt.
And when he had begun to focus his will, he had not drawn anything from
his surroundings. It had all come from within him, and there had been a
deep and peculiar love in it.
"lt's lovely," Adara said, holding the little flower gently in her
cupped hands and inhaling its fragrance. Her dark hair fell across her
cheek, hiding her face from him. Then she lifted her chin, and Garion saw
that her eyes were filled with tears. "It seems to help," she said, "for a
little while, anyway "
"What's wrong, Adara?"
She did not answer, but looked out across the dun-brown plain.
"Who's Ce'Nedra?" she asked suddenly. "I've heard the others mention
her "

"Ce'Nedra? She's an Imperial Princess - the daughter of Itan Horune of
Tolnedra."
"What's she like?"
"Very small - she's part Dryad - and she has red hair and green eyes
and a bad temper. She's a spoiled little brat, and she doesn't like me
very much."
"But you could change that, couldn't you?" Adara laughed and wiped at
the tears.
"I'm not sure I follow you."
"All you'd have to do is-" She made a vague kind of gesture.
"Oh." He caught her meaning. "No, we can't do very much with other
people's thoughts and feelings. What I mean is - well, there's nothing to