"Claremont, Chris & Lucas, George - Chronicles of the Shadow War 02 - Shadow Dawn - part02" - читать интересную книгу автора (Claremont Chris)

She made no audible reply, but swung her eyes to the brownie rid-
ing her shoulder and from there to the eagle soaring just above the
treetops.
"Apparently not," he acknowledged.
They'd lingered at the campsite one day more while Elora re-
gained her strength, at the same time growing increasingly concerned
about their supplies as she wolfed down every scrap of food that
came to hand in her traveling pouches. Most of Duguay's instruments
had survived his captivity. His clothes proved less fortunate, making
the man cluck with dismay at the mismatched garments he was left
with. He prided himself on his fashion sense and had no truck with
ragamuffins. Rool's wound turned out to be mostly cosmetic, requir-
ing a poultice instead of Elora's gifts as well as a bandage, which gave
him a raffish, piratical air. Bastian, too, was well on the path to re-
covery, though both strength and endurance were limited until the
soreness passed. His flights were of short duration and he didn't stray
far.
Ironically the healthiest among them was the one who'd nearly
died and he made the most of it, taking on himself the bulk of the
chores with a solicitude and charm they all found irresistible.
"I can find another road, Elora, if that's your wish," he offered in
that same vein. "It's nothing to me which way I go."
She slid a skeptical gaze his way, making an obvious show of
looking past him at the steep ridge that rose up from the road on one
side, then swiveled her head toward the widening race of water that
paced them on the other.
Duguay chuckled.
"Fine," he said, waving his hands in a concession of defeat. "Shall
I retire to some forest hollow to wait a day or three until you're too
far ahead to catch?"
Elora responded with another dumbshow, cocking her head, rais-
ing her eyebrows, pursing her lips, making all manner of obscure
sounds in mock consideration of his offer. In fact, a part of her deep
inside was doing precisely the same in all seriousness. For different
reasons, both aspects came to the same conclusion.
"You. . ."-she strung the word well past the point of decency,
and let it trail off into a pause that lasted even longer, gleefully taking
the opportunity to keep the troubadour dangling in suspense-"can
stay."
"I am so honored."
She made him a face and threw a punch to his nearside shoulder






that was meant to thump but only provoked a laugh when she ended
up shaking the numbness from her knuckles. For all the man's lack of,