"Elizabeth Gilligan - Silken Magic 01 - Magic's Silken Snare" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilligan Elizabeth)

Fencing Masters Training Program at San Jose State University, generously
demonstrated many fencing techniques and advised me in the fight scenes. Adrienne
Martine-Barnes and eluki bes shahar were invaluable in developing my concept.
Mary Stella Flynn took copious notes during her vacation and helped research Sicily
for me. I must also thank the Dream Weavers, my on-line writersтАЩ groupтАФBrook
and Julia West, Lois Gresh, Sverna Park, Catherine Asaro, Juleen Brantingham, and
the late Jo ClaytonтАФand the Word Spinners group, particularly Teresa Edgerton,
Joy Oestreicher, Carolyn Hill, Christy Marx, Francesca Flynn, Jennifer Carson, and
Kevin A. Murphy for their comments and guidance. A special thanks to Stephanie
Pui-Min Law (www.shadowscapes.com) whose artistry gives images to the design
of the Gypsy Silk Tarot Deck still in progress.
My thanks go to the good people at DAW Books who have brought my efforts to
you and my agent, Carol McCleary. Sheila Gilbert helped me to realize so much
more of my vision with her insightful editing and patience. Carol believed in me just
as I started to wonder if I could ever make this happen and brought this book and
Sheila together.
Finally, thank you, gentle reader, for making all these efforts worthwhile. Enjoy!



тАЬA brave world, Sir, full of religion, knavery, and change: we shall shortly see
better days.тАЭ

тАФAphra Behn




I

тАЬClothтАЩd in her virgin white integrity.тАЭ
тАФJohn Donne


16 dтАЩAprile 1684


The owl called. Despite the midnight hour, Luciana sat up, awake and restless.
Owls did not often find their way so close to the main house of the Drago estates.
The turmoil of fear and premonition tore at her gut.
She listened. Silence. It gave her no comfort. She cast aside layers of
embroidered coverlets, drew back the heavy green velvet bed-curtains, and stepped
out onto the cold oak floor. Her toes curled against the wood, and she shivered in
the chill of the evening. She did not pause to put on the slippers placed beside her
bed, nor to draw on the robe laid at armтАЩs length over the back of a rose chaise.
When an owl first spoke to her, Luciana had been barely five. They found her
fatherтАЩs body just beyond the encampment the next day. The owl came for her
mother eight years later, but by that time Luciana had a gadj├й stepfather with no time
for silly young women and their premonitions.
Luciana had had a sense that something was very wrong all this day. She had