"Doranna Durgin - Wolverine's Daughter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Durgin Doranna)

Kelyn reached for the needle. "I thought I smelled magic in this." She held it by its thong, careful not to
touch the bone itself. "Rika might know what it is."

"Destroy it," Iden grunted, and Frykla nodded quick agreement.

"How? Crush it and release Ketura knowswhat into my body?" Kelyn leaned over the man beside them,
who had managed to crawl several feet away, as if he'd hoped they wouldn't notice. "Save your effort,"
she whispered harshly into his ear. "You'll need it, soon enough." She jerked a pouch from his belt and
dumped its meager contents on top of him, replacing them with the needle and stuffing it all into one of
her cloak pockets.

Frykla moved to what had been the door to the house and was now a gaping hole in the circular rock
wall. "What of your house?"

Kelyn joined her there. Burning thatch had fallen inside to ignite anything that was flammable; the air was
redolent with the lingering odor of burnt fur and charred leather, while cinders still swirled aimlessly in the
currents that the wind, gusting over the rock walls above, created on the floor of the dug-out circle.
Against the wall, a steaming leather mound marred by random scorch marks was the only object not
made of rock that seemed reasonably whole.

Ignoring the cinders, Kelyn hopped down into the room and strode over to the chest, throwing off the
furs to find the satchel and chest untouched. Iden and Frykla made no comment as she rummaged
through the contents of the chest, addingthis to her satchel, puttingthat aside. When she stood, the
satchel was full. She rolled up the still-damp furs and tied them that way, then tossed the bundle over the
rock wall. "Take whatever's left for yourselves," she told her friends.

"But, KelynтАФ" Frykla started, glancing up at Iden.

"Come stay with us," Iden told her. "We'll build you a new house when the ground thaws enough for the
digging."

Kelyn looked at them, imagining herself the third person in the small home of the newly handfasted
couple, and shook her head.

"Then talk to Gwawl. You know he wants you. And he's started his own home, not far from oursтАФ"

Kelyn shook her head again, more firmly this time. "I'll take no one who wants me out of pity," she said.
"And . . . I've a craving lately . . . To see things. To know more than this land can teach me." She couldn't
leave while her mother had still lived, and even then, the house had exerted a pull on her. Now both were
gone. She looked at Frykla and Iden and shrugged. "The gods seem to have given me a shove."
"All gods should be like Ketura, and stay out of our business," Iden muttered. "Gwawl has no pity in
him, Kelyn, you should know that. Nor do you need it."

"KelynтАФ" Frykla started again, and again her protest died in her throat, this time at Kelyn's expression.

"Come," Kelyn said. "Lytha waits. Do me the honor of standing by while I light the pyre."
***

"Move, you son of a donkey," Kelyn muttered hours later, tugging on the reins of the horse she led. It
didn't know her, it didn't trust her, and as far as she could tell, it was only half tame, anyway. She began