"Brooks - Heritage 3 - The Elf Queen of Shannara" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)

involuntarily at the prospect, then snapped open again instantly.
She could not sleep until Garth returned, she knew. She must
stay alert.
She rose and walked out to the edge of the bluff, feeling the
breeze against her face, letting the sea smells fill her senses.
Cranes and gulls glided and swooped across the waters, graceful
and languid as they flew. Far out, too far to be seen clearly,
some great fish cleared the water with an enormous splash and
disappeared. She let her gaze wander. The coastline ran unbro-
ken from where she stood for as far as the eye could see, ragged,
tree-grown bluffs backed by the stark, whitecapped mountains
of the Rock Spur north and the Irrybis south. A series of rocky

beaches separated the bluffs from the water, their stretches lit-
tered with driftwood and shells and ropes of seaweed.
Beyond the beaches, there was only the empty expanse of
the Blue Divide. She had traveled to the end of the known
world, she thought wryly, and still her search for the Elves
went on.
An owl hooted in the deep woods behind her, causing her
to turn. She cast about cautiously for movement, for any sign
of disturbance, and found none. There was no hint of Garth.
He was still out, tracking .
She ambled back to the cooling ashes of the cooking fire
and nudged the remains with her boot. Garth had forbidden
any sort of real fire until he made certain they were safe. He
had been edgy and suspicious all day, troubled by something
that neither of them could see, a sense of something not being
right. Wren was inclined to attribute his uneasiness to lack of
sleep. On the other hand, Garth's hunches were seldom wrong.
If he was disturbed, she knew better than to question him.
She wished he would return.
A pool sat just within the trees behind the bluff and she
walked to it, knelt, and splashed water on her face. The pond's
surface rippled with the touch of her hands and cleared. She
could see herself in its reflection, the distortion clearing until
her image was almost mirrorlike. She stared down at it-at a girl
barely grown, her features decidedly Elven with sharply pointed
ears and slanted brows, her face narrow and high cheeked, and
her skin nut-brown. She saw hazel eyes that seldom stayed fixed,
an off-center smile that suggested she enjoyed some private joke,
and ash-blond hair cut short and tightly curled. There was a
tautness to her, she thought-a tension that would not be dis-
pelled no matter how valiant the effort employed.
She rocked back on her heels and permitted herself a wry
smile, deciding that she liked what she saw well enough to live
with it awhile longer.
She folded her hands in her lap and lowered her head. The
Search for the Elves-how long had it been going on now? How
long Since the old man-the one who claimed he was Cogline-