"Mercedes Lackey - Mage Storms 1 - Storm Warning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

a room intended for socializing. This room looked exactly like the тАЬpublicтАЭ room of any
Tayledras ekele; it was light and open despite little free floor space, furnished with a
number of flat cushions for sitting and lounging, a pair of perches for bondbirds, and
some low tables. The floor was a herringbone pattern of two different hardwoods,
amber and pale honey.
AnтАЩdesha passed through this room to reach his own room, one draped with cloth
against all the walls, and gathered up in the middle of the ceiling, supposedly to
resemble a ShinтАЩaтАЩin tent. FiresongтАЩs idea, and he couldnтАЩt spoil FiresongтАЩs pleasure
by telling him it no more looked like the inside of a ShinтАЩaтАЩin tent than the Palace
gardens looked like a Vale. It contained the chests that held his clothing, the few
personal possessions that he had managed to accumulate, and a more comfortable
bed than the pallet in the tenf in the garden. He didnтАЩt use the bed much, except to lie
on and think.
He pulled aside the cloth covering the windows on the outer wall, and looked out
into the branches of the tree just outside. He found himself wondering if that story
Firesong had heard was true - and if it was, how had it ended? In tragedy, or in
happiness?
And how could it matter to me, either way! Oh, I think too much.
He turned back into the room, dropped the robe, and pulled out a shirt and
breeches from the chest that held his clothing, pulling them on and trying to ignore
the slightly odd cut.
These were not ShinтАЩaтАЩin, and there was no getting around the fact. They would
never feel exactly тАЬright.тАЭ
But it was clothing, and it worked very well; it didnтАЩt matter if it felt like ShinтАЩaтАЩin
clothing or not.
He turned back to the window -
And suddenly, out of nowhere, the fear came again. Not one of the stupid,
personal fears, but something much, much greater. He clung to the windowsill with
both hands as the sunlight turned as chill as a blizzard sweeping across the Plains,
and his teeth chattered as he shook from head to toe, unable to move, scarcely able
to draw a breath. His stomach clenched; his jaws locked on a cry of anguish. His
heart thundered in his ears, and he wanted only to run, mad with terror, until he
couldnтАЩt run any farther.
Something is wrong. . . .
Then, abruptly, the fear left him, gasping for breath, as it always did.
But the message remained.
Firesong sat under a crocus-patterned lantern in the gathering dusk, scratching
the crest of his firebird. The bird weighed down his other arm, its eyes closed with
pleasure, and FiresongтАЩs eyes were distant as he concentrated on AnтАЩdeshaтАЩs
hesitant words.
тАЬ... it was the same as the last time,тАЭ AnтАЩdesha concluded, the memory of that
terror calling up a chill all over again. тАЬThatтАЩs three times now, and the circumstances
I was in were different all three times.тАЭ
Firesong nodded slowly, brushing a lock of white hair back behind his neck. The
firebird slitted one sleepy eye in disapproval, until FiresongтАЩs hand came back to
scratch his crest again. тАЬI donтАЩt think this is coming from within you,тАЭ he said, as a
night-blooming flower beside AnтАЩdesha released perfume into the air. тАЬI believe your
own impression is right; there is a menace approaching that we are not yet aware of,
and this feeling of fear of yours is a presentiment.тАЭ
AnтАЩdesha sighed with relief; the first two times that this had happened, Firesong