"Dance of the Rings 2 - Ring of Intrigue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fancher Jane S)

It was a vast maze of tunnels, man-made and natural, filled
with wonders. There were mineral stalactites and stalag-
mites, as one found in any mountain cave, veils and lumps
and impossible structures formed over centuries of drip-
ping water.
However, in ground formed and transformed by the
nearby leythium node, the cave-lurker had the added bonus
of the rare, sudden burst of rainbow color when he chanced
upon a ley-crystal bud, unmined and grown enormous over
years of disuse.
Unusednow. But once these caverns had provided the
founders of Rhomatum the same sort of haven they pro-
vided a handful of men and horses tonight. Their ancestors
had forgotten that first Rhomatum once they moved to
their surface, leylit homes. They'd forgotten the under-
ground altogether, except to turn the largest caverns into a
prison to house the individuals the law-abiding citizens of
the Rhomatum Web could do without.
They'd forgotten the underground until a handful of
youths found the caverns and reminded a history-starved
populace about them. That reminder had sparked a burst
of mass nostalgia that had opened the old city to public
tours and renewal programs.
Fortunately, this stable, which was the staging area for
one of the major tour routes, was kept stocked and pre-
pared as if in constant use. It wasn't, of course, in use, and
they'd had to move a plaster horse or two to make way for
the real thing, but hay was hay, and straw for ambiance
made welcome bedding for tired, frightened horses.
And there was water, and cots and blankets, and even
food, in those restaurants, for the horses' equally ex-
hausted handlers.
They could worry about reimbursing the owners later.
For himself, as the last occupied stall passed his scrutiny,
as the last grateful horseman gripped his hand, sleep
seemed far away. He should be exhausted; instead, he was
exhilarated, his blood was boiling through his veins, and
showed no signs of abating. He ducked into a darkened
niche to catch his breath, and quiet his heartbeat, seeking
serenity in the unyielding stone.
And jumped nearly out of his skin as arms closed around
his waist.
"Show 'ee m' ankles fer a copper, zur." Warm breath
brushed his ear, carrying that low whisper.
Deymorin chuckled and twisted in the circle of arms.
"Not interested in ankles, Shepherdess," he whispered in
return, and slumped backward, dragging Kiyrstin with him.
As his arms closed around her, he realized how . . . light . . .
his head felt, how completely free of his brothers' thoughts
his mind was. He buried his face in her neck, and her scent