"Mercedes Lackey - Last Herald Mage 2 - Magic's Promise" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

The sun coming in his window had crept down off the chair and onto the
floor, making a bright square on the brown braided rug. He chewed and
swallowed methodically, not really tasting what he was eating, and stared at
the glowing square, his mind going blank and numb.
:Randale uses you beyond your strength, because of the nodes,: Yfandes
said accusingly, breaking into his near - trance. :You should say something.
He'd stop if he realized what he was doing to you. If you were like other
Heralds, unable to tap them-:
:If I were like other Heralds, the Karsites would be halfway to Haven now,
instead of only holding the disputed lands,: he replied mildly. :Dearest, there is
no choice. I lost my chance at choices a long time ago. Besides, I'm not as
badly off as you think. All I need is a bit of rest and I'll be fine. We're damned
lucky I can use the nodes- and that I don't need to rest to recharge.:
:Except that you must use your power to focus and control-:
He shook his head. :Beloved, I appreciate what you're, telling me, but this
isn't getting us anywhere. I have to do what I'm doing; I'm a Herald. It's what
any of the others would do in my place. It's what 'Lendel-:
Grief-he fought it, clenching his hand hard on the arm of his chair as he
willed his emotions into control. Control yourself, Herald. This is just because
you're tired, it's maudlin, and it doesn't do you or anyone else any good.
:I could wish you were less alone. :
:Don't encourage me in self-pity, love. It's funny, isn't it?: he replied, his
lips twitching involuntarily, though not with amusement. :Dear Father seems to
think I've been seducing every susceptible young man from here to the
Border, and I've been damned near celibate. The last was-when?: The weeks,
the months, they all seemed to; blur together into one long endurance trial. A
brief moment of companionship, then a parting; inevitable, given his duties
and Jonne's.
:Three years ago,: Yfandes supplied, immediately. :That rather sweet
Guardsman.:
Vanyel remembered the person, though not the time.
тАЬHello. YouтАЩre The Herald-Mage, aren't you ?''
Vanyel looked up from the map he was studying, and smiled. He couldn't
help it-the diffident, shy smile the Guardsman wore begged to be answered.
тАЬYes-are you-''
тАЬGuardsman Jonne. Your guide. I was born not half a league from here. тАЬ
The guileless expression, the tanned face and thatch of hair, the tiny net of
humor lines about the thoughtful hazel eyes, all conspired to make Vanyel like
this man immediately.
тАЬThen you, friend Jonne, are the direct answer to my prayers,тАЭ he said.
Only later, when they were alone, did he learn what other prayers the
Guardsman had an answer for-
:Jonne. Odd for such a tough fighter to be so diffident, even gentle.
Though why he should have been shy, when he was five years older and had
twice my -uh- experience-:
:Your reputation, beloved. A living legend came down off his pedestal and
looked to him for company.: Yfandes sent him an image of a marble saint -
statue hopping out of its niche and wriggling its eyebrows in a come - hither
look. There was enough of a tired giggle in her mind-voice to get an equally
tired chuckle out of him. But he sobered again almost immediately. :And that