"Alphabet Of Thorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

УNo,Ф he breathed. УYes.Ф

УEspecially not twice in one moment.Ф

УTwice?Ф

She touched the book again with the pen. УTwice,Ф she said, and he saw the wonder in her eyes. УThere was youЧall that richness in your hair and eyes, all that goldЧand there was the book you gave me. It seemed in that moment that my heart recognized the language. And until that moment, I hardly knew I had one.Ф

УOne what?Ф he asked dazedly, thinking of all that glowing dark she carried with her, all that mystery.

УA heart.Ф

УNepenthe,Ф he said, the word out of the sea. УCan you ЧIs there a place ЧMust we sit here with all these books listening?Ф

УFor a while. If we go up, we will be seen, and I should be working. Can you stay?Ф

УHow can I possibly find my way back through this labyrinth?У he asked her. УI am at your mercy.Ф

She smiled at that. УI donТt know if I possess such a thing. Nobody ever asked me for it before. Except maybe Laidley.Ф

УWhat is Laidley?Ф

УJust someone. No one.Ф The pen flicked again between her fingers; her attention strayed, was caught on thorn. УThis book Ч Ф

УNever mind the book,Ф he said huskily. УYou saw me first.Ф

УLet me talk,Ф she pleaded. УI have no one else to tell.Ф

УThe librarians.Ф

She shook her head, the swift blood running into her face again, so that he wanted to open his hand to that fiery warmth. УI lied,Ф she said, her voice catching; she cleared her throat. УI lied to you.Ф

УWe hardly know each other,Ф he said, astonished. УWhat could you have found to lie about so soon?Ф

УThe book. The librarians donТt know I have it. I told the transcriptor who rode with me that the mages had puzzled it out for themselves; they didnТt need to send it after all.Ф

He stared at it with sudden interest. УWhy? Is it magic? It must be, for it to have possessed you like that.Ф

УIs that it? Is that what magic does?Ф

УIt charms; it transfixes; it binds. Have you understood any of it?Ф

УI think so. The letters are like thorns: they cling to each other to make words, but like thorn branches they can be separatedЧ look.Ф She drew the book toward him, her voice eager now, unafraid. He moved close to her, so close he could feel the scented dark of her long hair against his lips. УThe thorns make a circle around a center.Ф

УLike a hub. Or an axle.Ф

УAxis,Ф she suggested. УIt is repeated, on nearly every page. I think it might be a name. And here Ч this must be the writerТs name, this branching of thorns on the first page. No other word but that, and not centered like a title, but Ч Ф

УSprawled all over the page,Ф Bourne murmured, Уlike a warning. You should tell the librarians.Ф