"Terry Goodkind. Faith of the Fallen (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

life's frailty, her own frailty, her own mortality. She had risked her
life in the past and had been in danger many times, but looking back she
didn't know if she had ever truly believed that something like this could
happen to her. Confronting the reality of it was crushing.

Something inside seemed to have broken that night-some idea of
herself, some confidence. She could so easily have died. Their baby could
have died before it even had a chance to live.

"You're getting better," Richard said, as if in answer to her
thoughts. "I'm not just saying that. I can see that you're healing."

She gazed into his eyes, summoning the courage to finally ask,
"How do they know about the Order way up here?"

"People fleeing the fighting have been up this way. Men spreading
the doctrine

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of the Imperial Order have been even here, to where I grew up. Their words
can sound good-almost make sense-if you don't think, if you just feel.
Truth doesn't seem to count for much," He added in afterthought. He
answered the unspoken question in her eyes. "The men from the Order are
gone. The fools out there were just spouting things they've heard, that's
all."

"But they intend us to leave. They sound like men who keep the
oaths they've sworn."

He nodded, but then some of his smile returned. "Do you know that
we're very close to where I first met you, last autumn? Do you remember?"

"How could I ever forget the day I met you?"

"Our lives were in jeopardy back then and we had to leave here.
I've never regretted it. It was the start of my life with you. As long as
we're together, nothing else really matters."

Cara swept in through the doorway and came to a halt beside
Richard, adding her shadow to his across the blue cotton blanket that
covered Kahlan to her armpits. Sheathed in skintight red leather, Cara's
body had the sleek grace of a falcon: commanding, swift, and deadly.
Mord-Sith always wore their red leather when they believed there was going
to be trouble. Cara's long blond hair, swept back into a single thick
braid, was another mark of her profession of Mord-Sith, member of an elite
corps of guards to the Lord Rahl himself.

Richard had, after a fashion, inherited the Mord-Sith when he
inherited the rule of D'Hara, a place he grew up never knowing. Command