"Katherine Kurtz - Camber 3 - Camber the Heretic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

the light of rushlights and fire as he saw and recognized the Healer.
"Rhys! How glad I am to see you!"
He started to struggle to a more upright position, stifling a cough, but Rhys,
with a protesting shake of his head, crossed quickly to his side and knelt, there
to take one thin, cold hand in his and kiss it gently.
"Please, Sire, do not bestir yourself for me. You should be resting."
Cinhil shook his head, his tight smile revealing a genuine affection for the
Healer which he rarely permitted to show.
"There will be ample time for resting when all of this is done, young
friendтАФan eternity of resting. For now, though, these holy words are my best
comfort. These, and your presence. Alister would also be a comfort, but he is
busy making preparations, as you no doubt know. He sent you to me, did he
not?"
"Aye," Rhys whispered, lowering his eyes. "And I am sorry that it could not
be he instead of me. I know what comfort he affords youтАФand you, him." He
allowed himself to meet the grey eyes again, a touch of his customary banter
returning to his voice. "But for now, will you allow me to see for myself that all
is well with you? For all your wisdom, and his, you have not a Healer's touch,
you know."
 "Well do I know," Cinhil sighed, glancing away at the fire. "And all is not
well."
He let the scroll under his hand curl back on itself with a crackle of brittle
parchment. Rhys laid it on the furs beside the king before resting his hand
gently on the king's arm again. Even with Camber's warning, he had not
expected Cinhil to be so weak. Just the mental commitment to the night's work
must already have cost Cinhil a great deal.
"Let me help, Cinhil," he whispered, slipping his hand to Cinhil's shoulder
when the king did not protest. "Relax and let me see what can be done."
When Cinhil still made no move of protest, Rhys shifted to the right, toward
Cinhil's head, and let both hands slip to Cinhil's shoulders from behind,
supporting the king's head on his lap. He felt the tense muscles relaxing as he
extended his Healing senses, and he let himself begin to sink into his Healing
state, to monitor the body which lay beneath his touch.
At first, he thought Cinhil was going to resist him; for though the body
yielded to his touch almost immediately, the churning mind inside did not.
Several seconds passed before he felt Cinhil's thoughts slacken and go still as
well, sensed the surrender of conscious control to his Healer's touch.
A moment's deep but gentle probing confirmed what Cinhil had said, what
Rhys had feared increasingly for many months. The king's lungs were very
weak, his general condition frail. And there was nothing Rhys could do save to
ease his discomfort, to try to pour more energy into CinhilтАЩs meager reserves
and give him strength for these final days or hoursтАФfor even a Healer could not
reverse aging.
Drawing from deep within his own reserves, Rhys channeled all the excess
energy he could spare into the king's tired old body, at the same time setting a
strong but overcomable inclination to rest until the last possible minute. Then
he withdrew.
But as he shifted back beside Cinhil, and the king opened his eyes again,
Rhys knew that he had lost that particular battle. Cinhil's eyes were bright and
a little defiant, aware of Rhys' suggestion and already overriding it.