"Terry Goodkind - Sword Of Truth 10 - Phantom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goodkind Terry)
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from the place. He half expected to see the air in the entire hallway beginning to sparkle.
Immense, brass-clad doors stood open, leading into what appeared to be a dimly lit library. He
knew that this was the place he was looking for.
Walking through those doors with elaborate, engraved symbols covering them, Richard froze in
midstride and stared in astonishment.
A flickering flash of lightning came in through a dozen, round-topped windows and illuminated
row upon row of shelves all around the cavernous room. The windows, rising two stories, ran the
entire length of the far wall. Two-story polished mahogany columns rose up between them, hung
with heavy dark green velvet draperies. Gold fringe lined the edges of the drapes, and swagged
tassels held them back from the windows. The small squares of glass that made up the soaring
windows were not clear, but thick and composed of numerous rings, as if the glass had been
overly thick when poured. When the lightning flashed it made the glass seem to light as well.
Lanterns with reflectors all around the room lent the place a soft warm glow and reflected off the
polished tabletops here and there between the confused disarray of books lying open everywhere.
The shelves were not what Richard had at first expected. There were indeed books on a number
of them, but other shelves held clutters of objects52;everything from neatly folded sparkling
cloth, to iron spirals, to green glass flasks, to complex objects made of wooden rods, to stacks of
vellum scrolls, to ancient bones and long, curved fangs that Richard didn't recognize and couldn't
begin to guess at.
When the lightning flashed again, the shadows of the window mullions running over everything
in the room, running across tables, chairs, columns, bookcases, and desks, made it appear as if the
"Zedd52;what in the world are you doing?"
"Lord Rahl," Cara said in a low voice from right over his shoulder, "I think your grandfather must
be crazy."
Zedd turned to peer briefly at Richard and Cara standing back in the doorway. The old man's
wavy white hair, standing out in every direction, looked a pale shade of orange in the lamplight,
but white as snow whenever the lightning flashed.
"We're a bit busy right now, my boy."
In the center of the room, Nicci floated just above one of the massive tables. Richard blinked,
trying to be sure that he really saw what he thought he saw. Nicci's feet were clear of the table by
a hand's width. She stood poised dead-still in midair.
As impossible and startling as such a sight was, that wasn't the worst of it. On the top of the table
was drawn a magical design known as a Grace.
It appeared to have been drawn with blood.
Like a curtain encircling Nicci, unmoving lines also hung suspended in the air above the Grace.
Richard had seen a number of gifted people draw spell-forms before, so he was pretty sure that
that was what he was seeing, but he had never seen anything approaching this midair maze.
Consummately complex, composed of lines of glowing green light, it hung in the air like a three-
dimensional spell-form.
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In the center of that intricate geometric framework Nicci floated as still as a statue. Her exquisite
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