"Briggs, Patricia - Sianim 2 - Steal the Dragon.text" - читать интересную книгу автора (Briggs Patricia)

vicinity. She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the nearest room. From the
glimpse she had while the door was open, it seemed to be an unused study in the
midst of remodeling. There were no windows to allow light in, and it was as dark as
a cave in the small room after she pulled the door closed. Rialla made a frustrated
sound.

"Hold on," she said, falling out of character. "I'll find a flintЕ" There was a
crash as she fell over an object left in the middle of the floor and cracked her head
on something hard.

"Perhaps I might be of some assistance." A light flared as the healer spoke, a
candle flickering in his hand. His voice was carefully void of humor, but there was
something in his face that hinted at it, and Rialla glared balefully at him from her
position on the floor before she remembered that she was supposed to be a slave.

It was the first time that she'd had a chance to look closely at him, and she
realized what had troubled her before: the healer was no more Darranian than she
was. It wasn't just that he was taller and bigger boned, but his coloring was wrong.


His hair was almost blond, though the short-trimmed beard was darker. His eyes
were hazel, but they weren't as green as hers; his had flecks of light blue that seemed
to come and go in the candlelight.

Ignoring her glare, the healer said, "Now, you will please explain to me how you
got hit hard enough to knock you to the ground without even so much as a red mark
on your face."

Rialla jumped lithely to her feet, with the grace of the dancer she was, and dusted
herself off to gain some time to think. Finally she said, "Lord Laeth needs to keep
up appearances, but he doesn't want to damage me. The blow was a warning more
than a punishment. He disciplines me in other ways." It was the best that she could
come up with on short notice, and it wasn't very good.

"That was Lord Laeth," the healer's voice took on an odd tone, "visiting from
Sianim?"

Wary of the interest in his voice, Rialla nodded.

The healer raised an eyebrow and reached out unexpectedly to touch her face,
muttering a few words under his breath as he did so. He jerked his hand away, as if
from something hot, and an intense expression that she couldn't interpret crossed
his face.

"Who would have thought it?" he said obscurely, and smiled. "I thought that
Sianim frowned on slavery."

Rialla felt as if she'd missed half of the conversation, and groped for an answer.
"My master told them I was his servant and they pretended to believe him." It was
the explanation that she and Laeth had chosen, but it sounded threadbare to her