"Robert Jordan - The Wheel of Time 9.5 - Snow - Prolouge to Winter's Heart" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

two had mentioned Ferane. A troubling puzzle. The Tower was a seething swamp these

days, every Ajah at every other Ajah's throat, yet the heads met in corners. No one

outside an Ajah knew for certain who within it led, but apparently the leaders knew

each other, What could they be up to? What? It was unfortunate that she could nor

simply ask Ferane, but even had Ferane been tolerant of anyone's questions, she did

nor dare. Not now.

Concentrate as she would, Seaine could not keep her mind on the question. She knew

she was staring at the door and worrying at puzzles she could not solve just to

avoid looking over her shoulder. Toward the source of those stifled whimpers and

snuffling groans.

As if thinking of the sounds compelled her, she looked back slowly to her

companions, her breath growing more uneven as her head moved by inches. Snow was

falling heavily on Tar Valon, far overhead, but the room seemed unaccountably hot.

She made herself see!

Brown-fringed shawl looped on her elbows, Saerin stood with her feet planted apart,

fingering the hilt of the curved Altaran dagger thrust behind her belt. Cold anger

darkened her olive complexion enough to make the scar along her jaw stand our in a

pale line. Pevara appeared calmer, at first glance, yet one hand gripped her

red-embroidered skirts tightly and the other held the smooth white cylinder of the

Oath Rod like a foot-long club she was ready to use. She might be ready; Pevara was

far tougher than her plump exterior suggested, and determined enough to make Saerin

seem a shirker.

On the other side of the Chair of Remorse, tiny Yukiri had her arms wrapped tightly

around herself; the long silvery-gray fringe on her shawl trembled with her shivers.

Licking her lips, Yukiri cast a worried glance at the woman standing beside her,