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

then he was sending forth his mind across the bond now being formed, urging
Cinhil to let go, to surrender control to the Healer's touch, feeling the king's
slow, pained response.
Beyond Cinhil, he was aware of Camber and Joram watching from the
gateway, of his wife kneeling beside the sleeping Javan and collecting the
golden pins which had fallen from her hair. He sensed Camber's wordless
query as to Cinhil's condition, but he could only catch the Master's eye and
shake his head minutely, his glance and lightning thought telling Camber all
there was to know of Cinhil's chance of lasting out the night if this went on.
There was no appeal from Cinhil's self-imposed sentence, however. Both
Rhys and Camber knew it. What Rhys had been asked to do would sustain
Cinhil through the other two imprintings, which was what Cinhil wanted, but it
would deplete the king's resources past possible renewal. And Rhys, whose
vocation it was to prolong life, was now being asked to take action not for length
but for quality of life. Still, Rhys thought he understood.
Resignedly, then, he let himself slip deep into trance with Cinhil, blocking
Cinhil's pain and cancelling out fatigue and doing what Healing he could. Some
repairs he was able to effect for the present, but he knew they would not hold
for long under the stress to which Cinhil would soon subject himself again.
Rhys would be able to do more Healing after Cinhil had finished with Javan,
and that would give him yet a little more time, but that would be the limit, both
for Cinhil and for him. He could not answer for Cinhil's life, once the third
imprinting was complete.
Quietly, gently, he did what must be done, then withdrew mind and hands
and opened his eyes. Cinhil did not move for a few seconds, but when he did
look up at Rhys again, he appeared to be greatly renewed. A faint smile split
the grey-flecked beard, becoming wider as he explored the new limits and
comfort of his renewed body.
"Healers do, indeed, work miracles," he said softly, gratitude lighting the
grey eyes. "What a fool was I, ever to doubt it. Thank you, my friend. You have
done me and Gwynedd great service this night."
As he got to his feet and headed back into the warded circle, Joram and
Camber stood to either side of the gateway and bowed him through. Another
glance passed between Rhys and Camber as the Deryni Master laid the tip of
the sword at one side of the gate and drew it across, sealing the circle once
more.
Rhys checked on his two charges brieflyтАФthe one still unconscious, though
recovering and approaching normal, if drugged, sleep; the other sleeping still in
blissful ignorance of what lay aheadтАФthen returned his attention to the circle.
Through the veiling mist of the circle's power, he could not see them clearly,
but he could follow their progress from the shadow-shapes.
He watched the shadow that was Camber bring the knife again, watched
Cinhil take that knife and prick the thumb of the unresisting Javan standing in
their midst. Joram held the parchment, the charged water in its cup, and
Cinhil let a drop of the boy's blood fall on each.
Smoke rose from the censer as the parchment burned, but Rhys could not
smell it. Sound was muffled and almost other-worldly, somehow apart from the
real world where Rhys knelt outside the circle.
We stand outside time, in a place not of earth . . . , he recalled.
He had expected it would be thus. He had been inside a warded circle many