"Mercedes Lackey - Brightly Burning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

тАЬYour fever came back,тАЭ his mother stated, as she set the tray down and sat on the edge of the
bed. тАЬCook came to check on you herself this morning, and sent me a message that you were asleep and
as hot as an oven.тАЭ She measured his temperature with her wrist, which felt pleasantly cool on his
forehead.
тАЬIt came back last night, I guess,тАЭ he replied, speaking slowly and carefully to keep from jarring
his head. тАЬI took some medicine right away.тАЭ This time, the medicine had worked its magic more quickly,
but there was still an ache throbbing in both temples and the back of his head. He eyed the bottle with
misgivings; there was just about a quarter of the stuff remaining; what if he needed more?
тАЬWhatever it is, I certainly hope for all our sakes that no one else catches it,тАЭ his mother replied in
a controlled tone, but with a gentle touch of her hand on his forehead. тАЬYour teachers sent to say theyтАЩre
satisfied with the work youтАЩve done, so I suppose it will do no harm for you to miss a few more days
until weтАЩre certain this fever wonтАЩt come back a third time.тАЭ
All he could feel was relief in spite of the pain. More days! This is-almost worth having my
head try to fly apart-
тАЬAre you hungry?тАЭ his mother asked, and to his mild surprise, he realized that he was ravenous.
тАЬI . . . think so,тАЭ he said haltingly, with the feeling that it wouldnтАЩt do to look too healthy.
тАЬWell, Cook informed me that тАШfeed a feverтАЩ is the rule, and the herbalist agreed, so I want you
to eat,тАЭ she told him as she stood up. тАЬHe also told me that drinking as much as you can is more
important than eating, so weтАЩll be keeping a pitcher of water beside your bed. IтАЩve sent for another bottle
of this unpleasant concoction since it does seem to have done you some good, and it should be ready in a
candlemark or two. HeтАЩd have had it ready sooner, but it started raining last night, and it seems everyone
in the city is coming down with a cold or the grippe.тАЭ She looked at the window, though nothing could
have been visible but the reflection, and sighed. тАЬItтАЩs a nasty, filthy, cold rain, and itтАЩs just pouring down. I
wonтАЩt let you go back as long as it lasts, even if it lasts a week.тАЭ
He sighed, and felt another measure of relief. тАЬMother-тАЭ
Nelda paused and turned back at the door.
тАЬWhat if this doesnтАЩt go away?тАЭ he ventured. тАЬWhat if I stay sick for a month?тАЭ I could live with
that.
At that, she laughed, much to his surprise. тАЬLavan, weтАЩre in Haven, not back in Alderscroft. The
HealerтАЩs Collegium is on the other side of the city. If this mysterious illness of yours doesnтАЩt pass on its
own in a few more days, have no fear, IтАЩll have one of the Collegium Healers in to see you. The only
reason I havenтАЩt had one here before is that this fever doesnтАЩt seem to be doing you any harm.тАЭ
With that, she left, not pausing long enough to see LanтАЩs face plummet with his heart.
His appetite had vanished, but he dutifully pulled the tray to him and ate anyway.
I should have known better than to hope that this was anything more than a reprieve, he
sighed to himself. Chewing was an ordeal; every movement of his jaw increased the ache, and he was
glad when heтАЩd finished enough that his mother and Cook would be satisfied. He poured himself another
generous dose of his medicine, wanting to sleep as long as possible. Sleep seemed to be the one certain
cure, and he wanted sleep and relief from pain more than he wanted anything else at that moment.
But sleep seemed long in coming this time; he tried to soothe himself by reminding himself that he
had a few more days of peace, if nothing else. For a few more days, he need not even think of Tyron.
At least when sleep did come, it brought no dreams.
FOUR
WRAPPED in a heavy, brown wool cloak, a sheepskin hat jammed down on his head, Lan
plodded unhappily down the gray, cheerless streets under a leaden sky to his first class since his illness.
Cold air numbed his nose, and even through his woolen gloves, his fingers were getting chilled. It wasnтАЩt
quite cold enough for snow; icy rain had been falling for the last three days, and the skies threatened to
make it four days in a row.
The headache had not returned for a third time, perhaps because the herbalist had suggested the
use of an ongoing sleeping aid. It was a much, much milder potion than the medicine heтАЩd sent to cure the