"Katherine Kurtz - Heirs 1 - Harrowing of Gwynedd" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

Mentally allowing himself a tiny sigh of reliefтАФfor at least this was one of the
local Saint Mary'sтАФQueron swept back his hood and returned the man's bow,
hoping his tonsure had not grown out so far as to be totally unrecognizable.
"Thank you, brother," he murmured. "Who gives charity unasked gives twice.
God will surely bless this house. May I ask the name of your abbot?''
With a gesture for Queron to accompany him, the monk turned to lead him
across the yard toward the chapel.
тАЬOur abbot is Brother Cronin,'' he said easily. "I am Brother Tiernan. And
you areтАФ?"
Truth-Reading to confirm, for he had been given the names of several of the
brethren of the House, Queron let himself relax a little more, stomping snow
from his boots as they mounted wooden steps to the chapel door.
"My name is Kinevan. Queron Kinevan. I believe you've been expecting me."
The monk turned and set his back against the chapel door, eying Queron
speculatively.
тАЬAh, we were told we might expect a Gabrilite by that name," he said softly,
"but I see no Gabrilite before me."
"I have lately been abbot ofтАФanother Order," Queron murmured, not
wanting to mention Saint Camber's name until he knew for certain that all was
well. "I have not worn Gabrilite habit for many years."
"It is my understanding that Gabrilite habit does not consist solely of the
garment," the monk insisted, "and that its putting off is no light matter. Is there
not some further proof you might offer, that you are what and who you say you
are?"
Queron allowed himself a wry smile. This Brother Tiernan was a bold one.
Not all humans would dare to make such a demand of an unknown Deryni. The
fellow wanted to know about his braidтАФnot normally a topic of discussion
outside the Order, but perhaps it was necessary.
"I think you wish no graphic demonstration of what I am," Queron said
quietly, digging in his scrip for the coil of plaited hair, "but I suspect that this
should prove adequately that I am who I claim to be." He displayed the coil on
his open palm. "Is this what you expected to see? I fear it became a liability,
attached to my head. I advise you not to touch it, but I assure you, it is mine."
Tiernan glanced a little nervously at the braid, as if a bit taken aback by his
own effrontery, but shook his head and swallowed when Queron would have
lifted it nearer.
"Please come inside, out of the cold, Dom Queron," he murmured, averting
his eyes as he turned to open the door. "Instructions have been left for you."
The inside of the chapel was little warmer than outside. Queron could see
his breath pluming on the air before him as he followed Tiernan down the
center aisle, tucking the braid back in its place in his scrip. Shadows wreathed
the open beams of the simple ceiling, but the walls were whitewashed and
made the little building seem lighter and more airy than it actually was. He
could hear the sounds of construction going on behind a wooden screen that
closed off the north transept, but they gradually ceased as Tiernan led him past
the simple transept crossing and toward the altar, where a red lamp burned
above the tabernacle.
"Wait here, please," Tiernan said, when the two of them paused at the foot of
the altar steps to reverence the Presence signified by that lamp.
Mystified, Queron watched the monk continue on alone to the tabernacle