"Robert Jordan - Ravens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

 And Mat. Drat Adora, anyway! Drat all of them!

She did pause when she neared the Wisdom. Doral Barran
was the oldest woman in Emond's Field, maybe in the whole Two
Rivers, white-haired and frail, but still clear-eyed and not stooped
at all. The Wisdom's apprentice, Nynaeve, was on her knees with
her back to Egwene, tending Bili Congar, wrapping a bandage
around his leg. His breeches had been cut away short. Bili, sitting
on a log, was another grownup who Egwene found it hard to
show the proper respect. He was always doing silly things and
getting himself hurt. He was the same age as Master Luhhan, but
he looked at least ten years older, his face hollow-cheeked and
his eyes sunken.

"You've played the fool often enough in the past, Bili
Congar," Mistress Barran said sternly, "but drinking while
handling wool shears is worse than playing the fool."

Oddly, she was not looking down at him, but at Nynaeve.

I only had a little ale, Wisdom," he whined. "Because of the
heat. Just a swallow."

The Wisdom sniffed in disbelief, but she continued to watch
Nynaeve like a hawk. That was surprising. Mistress Barran often
praised Nynaeve publicly for being such a quick learner. She had
apprenticed Nynaeve three years earlier, after her
then-apprentice died of some sickness even Mistress Barran
could not cure. Nynaeve had been a recent orphan, and a lot of
people said the Wisdom should have sent her to her relatives in
the country after her mother died, and taken on someone years
older. Egwene's mother did not say so, but Egwene knew she
thought it.

Nynaeve straightened on her knees, done with fastening the
bandage, and gave a satisfied nod. And to Egwene's surprise,
Mistress Barran knelt down and undid it again, even lifting the
bread-poultice to peer at the gash in Bili's thigh before beginning
to wrap the cloth back around his leg. She actually looked . . .
disappointed. But why? Nynaeve began fiddling with her braid,
tugging at it the way she did when she was nervous, or trying to
bring attention to the fact that she was a grown woman, now.

When is she going to outgrow that? Egwene thought. It was
nearly a year since the Women's Circle had let Nynaeve braid her
hair.

A flutter of motion in the air caught Egwene's eye, and she
stared. More ravens dotted the trees around the meadow now.
Dozens and dozens of them, and all watching. She knew they