"Esther M. Friesner - A Beltaine And Suspenders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

The fog was beginning to thin out. It was a process only a little less rapid

than the wholesale assault of the mists, so that by the time Olivia's captor had

done speaking, she had a good look at him and her surroundings. To her surprise,

she saw that she was held motionless in the grasp of a short, thickly muscled

man with skin as swarthy as any gypsy's, made blacker by a layer of soot. His

hair was of the same midnight hue, hisslitty , slanted eyes an unnerving blue

that made Olivia, all irrationally, think of a hungry wolf.



She felt the rising urge to escape, but suppressed it. Why try? She saw how

hopeless it would be. Although he did not quite come up to her shoulder, she had

no illusions about who was the more powerful of the two. Everything about him

was square and mighty, from his amply corded neck and shoulders to the tips of

his blunt, filthy fingers. Winter be damned, he was stripped to the waist and

wore no more than a blacksmith's leather apron over what looked like a brown

loincloth. His feet were bare and seemed ready to thrust roots into the earth at

the first opportunity.



Another yowl fromTelemachus tore Olivia's attention away from the little man.

Now the fog was gone entirely and she could see that she stood not three paces

from the lip of a well whose curb was just a ring of flat rocks such as a

housewife might use for stepping stones in her garden. A host of spectral white

flecks danced merrily in the air above the pit. Olivia shuddered violently as

one landed on her forearm.



"Oh, for pity's sake, Olivia, calm down." Father Herrick plucked the small