"Brust,.Steven.-.To.Reign.In.Hell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brust Steven)

carried it, as fresh currents, to every shore.

The Regent of the West was at peace, for a while. Let us leave her
there.

The Youth With Golden Locks looked to the west. He rested his
left hand upon the golden hilt of the shaft of scarlet light that hung
from his waist and reached down to his knees. He was dressed in
a tunic of light brown that called attention to his remote blue eyes.
He, the Regent of the East, was a proper half-a-head taller than the
black-haired, dark woman who stood at his side and caressed his
arm.

She scrutinized him for a moment, then shook her head.

'Too much," she remarked.

He shrugged, and darkened his complexion a shade or two.

"Better," she said. "But the hair is still overdoing it a bit, don't you
think?"

"If you say so," said the youth, and eased the curls somewhat,
darkened the tone. As the woman studied this version, impatience
crossed the Regent's face.

"Forget it," he snapped. "It just isn't me."

She shrugged. "As you wish."

His hair grew lighter again, his form taller and thinner, and his skin
took on an aspect of transparency. "We're not going to be able to
do this much longer," he said. "The effects of the Wave have
nearly worn off."

"It doesn't matter," she said, soothingly.

"I don't understand this concern everyone suddenly has with
appearance, anyway."

"What else is there to be concerned with? I expect things will occur
soon enough, but for nowЧ"

"I suppose. But is there any reason for me to spend all this time
working on a form that I never look at anyway?"

"Maybe not. But as a Regent, I should thinkЧ"

"That's another thing. There was a time when it actually meant
something to be a Regent."