"Barb & J. C. Hendee - Noble Dead 03 - Sister of the Dead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hendee JC & Barb)

she might be going.

She headed southeast at first, which had confused him. He expected her to leave the Vudrask River and
turn north into Stravina. He almost lost track of her on the night after she abandoned the barge, and he
sent Chane on an errand in order to gain a few moments' privacy to scry for Magiere's whereabouts.

He couldn't waste another moment alone.

Kneeling in the shrine, Welstiel removed a brass dish from his pack and placed it on the mulch-strewn
floor with its domed back facing up. Murmuring guttural words, he drew his dagger and sliced a shallow
cut in what remained of the little finger of his left hand. He watched his own black fluids drip once, twice,
three times to collect in a tiny bulge at the center of the plate's back. The stub of bone in his little finger
felt warm. It took a moment's focus of his will to close the tiny wound.

The dark droplet upon the brass plate's back began to move. It ran slow in a short line away from the
center, heading east by southeast.

Welstiel cleaned the plate and dagger, tucked them away, and stepped back outside, prepared to hunt
for his errant companion, Chane.

There was no longer any doubt. Magiere headed toward Chemestuk.

IWynn watched Magiere and Leesil across the fire as they whispered to each beneath their blanket.
Foolish though it was, this familiar sight made her lonelier with each passing day. She did not wish to
invade their newfound closeness, but it made her feel like an outsider.

Nothing on this journey was as she had imagined.

It never occurred to Wynn what life might be like without the constant presence of her mentors and
fellow sages. Orphaned as a child, she had been taken in by the Guild of Sagecraft in the kingdom of
Malourne across the ocean. In the excitement of the journey's start, Magiere's smoldering demeanor and
Leesil's constant humor were an enticing change from all she had known. But after so many days of
travel, she missed Domin Tilswith and the comforts of the sages' barracks. At least Chap was constant as
her main companion. She ran her fingers through the fur on the dog's neck and heard his rumble of
content in return.

She had envisioned herself as the useful scribe and translator for Magiere and Leesil, not unlike the
journeyman sages assigned to some noble's house and fief back in her homeland. She would record the
details of these foreign lands for the guild's records, expanding upon the vast knowledge the sages swore
to safeguard for civilization. But Magiere and Leesil spoke the language of Belaski and had not needed
her skills, and now to her frustration, they were in Droevinka. Magiere was the only one fluent in the local
language, but even Leesil spoke it well enough to get by.

Wynn, who spoke seven languages, did not speak Droevinkan. Not yet.

Leesil tried to tutor her, but she was at a loss every time they had passed through one of the local
villages. Worse, Magiere pressed them onward at a tiring pace. There had been little time to record
anything of noteтАФof what little there was to note. The weather was cold and wet, and she did not think
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