"Shirley Meier & S. M. Stirling - Fifth Millenium 01 - Shadow's Daughter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meier Shirley)

"Oh, certainly. Ness, dear, the kahfe is lovely." Megan lay
down again and started to play with Brunsc. He only had one ear
left because she'd chewed the other one off when she was a little
baby. Her mama said she was a big girl now. She lifted him up
over her head, pretending she was old enough to have access to
the manrauq, the power of mind that all adult Zak had, and
could make him float without holding him in her hands. Her
mother could do that, but it would tire her out.

Megan didn't want to listen to Aunt Marte. She didn't
understand how Aunt could make Mama sad and Papa angry all
at the same time without raising her voice.

"Megan," Papa called to her. She pushed Brunsc out to see if
it was safe, and when the toy just lay there dribbling sawdust
from a little hole under his arm, she looked around the corner of
the trunk.

"There's the child! Megan, come here," Aunt Marte said, and
held out her thin hands, beckoning. Megan didn't move. "Willful,
isn't she? Just like western stock."

"Megan, come out and be polite." Papa's voice was like his
flint and steel scraping to start a fire. "Your aunt is just leaving."

Marte had a peevish, annoyed look, entirely unlike her
younger brother. She was taller than he was and her hair was
streaky with grey. Lixand's face was flushed and if Ness held her
cup any tighter she was going to break it. Megan crawled out
dragging Brunsc to protect her and Marte held out her hands
again. Those hands never felt like what her voice said, usually
holding too hard or pinching. Megan shook her head and stayed
by her papa, hiding her eyes on his leg. She thought that her
aunt smelled like the medicines she made. "Such a sweet little
grig! Such a child, Ness! With her looks you'd think that both
her parents were City Zak of the purest sort," Marte said. Ness
looked away, silent. Megan wanted to spit on her aunt's feet, but
wouldn't; she was kin.

Lixand looked tired. "Marte," he said, "she looks like her
mother and I am proud of my family." He took a deep breath
and tried to be civil. "Tell me, have you made a connection with
the Haian?"

"No, but I've made some other good contacts, nonetheless.
The Haian isn't likely to be here long, ever since the Woyvode
started showing his disfavor towards them." She got up as she
spoke, brushing her sleeves hard as if to slap the dust of the
house off. "Good Blossoming to you."