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

Her rage drained when she stared into the father's face and saw no hint of emotion in his eyes. He pulled
her upright by the throat, not bothering to remove her hand from the knife hilt. The masked old man
glided evenly toward the door and out into the night. The father pulled her along by the neck as he
followed the old main.

She staggered and regained her footing. The son turned away as she passed, and she caught no glimpse
of his face. Two large horses waited outside in the village path. The son mounted the closest, a tail bay,
and the father lifted her up behind him as if she were no burden at all. Shouts rose out of the dark.

Villagers emerged from cottages and huts, but most stayed well back. A few held torches or candle
lanterns that barely illuminated the path between their homes. Three young men came forward in
smudged and grimed field clothes, armed with hoes and hay rakes. Two hesitated, but the third showed
no fear. Even in the dark, the woman recognized his brown unwashed hair hanging loose around angular
features and a square, dark-shadowed jaw.

"Adryan, don't!" she called, as much in anger as concern for his safety.

A villager who assaulted a noble was a corpse sooner rather than later, and no one of importance would
question it. The young man barely glanced at her, his attention shifting between the masked figure and the
tall, armored father.

"Release her!" he snapped. "She's mine. "

"You fool!" she shouted back. "Stay back. There's nothing to be done. "

She was about to slide off the horse, but the son swung his arm back to block her.

"You should listen to her, " the son said.

Adryan rushed the father. The tall nobleman brushed back his cloak to expose the knife handle
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protruding from his abdomen. The young man faltered, and the masked old one slid forward into his way.
The robed figure slapped Adryan across the cheek with one gnarled hand.

Adryan buckled and fell backward to the ground, screaming and clutching at his face. As he writhed, the
father gripped the knife hilt and withdrew the blade from his own flesh as if from a sheath. He tossed it to
the ground beside Adryan, and the young man's two companions backed away.

The masked one closed on Adryan.

"Enough, " ordered the father. "We've no more time to waste here. Meet us at the keep. "

The robed figure turned and nodded agreement. His arms stretched out to the sides at full length, palms
up to the sky, and his breath came out in a long, audible exhale. The air in the village path began to churn.

Sitting upon the horse, the woman watched leaves and twigs swirl on the ground in a circle about the