"Modesitt, L E - Recluce 10 - Magi'i Of Cyador" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

After a moment, Lorn shrugs and takes the outside steps down into the rear garden, past the fruit trees and the grape arbor. He pauses by the rear gate, in the shielded darkness, and concentrates on his adaptation of chaos transfer.
Hssst! A small firebolt arcs from his fingers onto the white stone, splashing like liquid flame, rearing up a good two spans into the gloom.
Lorn quickly steps on the twig that has caught fire and stamps out the small fire with his heavy white boots. "Careful..." He glances around, but there are no sounds beyond the murmurs that drift from the servants' quarters beyond the garden. He should have used even less chaos.
After a last look at the house, he leaves by the rear gate, and walks down the paved and spotless alley to the lower street, above which tower the three levels of the family dwelling.
Lorn strides along the Road of Perpetual Light, eastward, away from the taverns frequented by the higher-ranking lancers and the cider-houses that cater to the students. The cylar trees overhanging the white-paved street whisper in the night breeze, and the autumn perfume of the purple arymids fills the cool air.
Lorn senses red-dark chaos... or trouble, and wonders what it might be. His eyes note little distinction between twilight and night as he strides purposefully eastward, almost welcoming the reddish-whiteness that he nears-after the talk with his father.
A couple walks toward him, nearly in the white and sparkling center of the wide walkway flanking the road, and Lorn can see from shimmering blue attire that both are from the merchanters. The man is slender, and his attention is upon the red-haired woman he escorts. Chaos lurks behind them, in the hulking figure that follows, apparently unseen in the shadowed darkness of the trees.
Lorn eases onto the same side of the road as the skulker who moves toward the couple, but the student magus is too late as the heavy and tall man leaps and strikes the male merchanter, with a blunt club or some such. The man collapses in a heap, and the woman turns to flee, but the attacker grabs her arm.
"Halthor! Let go of me!" she screams. "Help! The Patrol!"
The man called Halthor drops the club to muffle her screams with his oversized hand.
Lorn steps out of the shadows, then ducks and picks up the truncheon as Halthor releases the woman. Lorn moves as if he had seen the large fist coming and steps under the giant's arms, bringing the short wooden truncheon into the vee of the man's ribs. Something cracks. The giant gasps, standing there immobile.
Lorn's eyes glitter gold for but an instant as he speaks. "I believe that all would be best if you jumped off the southernmost pier in the harbor and inhaled as much water as you can."
The taller man shivers, then turns, breathing laboriously, and begins to walk westward along the Road of Perpetual Light, ignoring the fallen trader, the woman merchanter, and Lorn.
Despite the sudden knife-like headache that has shivered through his skull, Lorn lowers the truncheon and turns toward the woman in shimmering blue, his voice filled with concern. "Are you all right?"
"Ah... I think so. Yes." She does not quite shiver, as she bends toward the fallen man.
Through slightly blurred vision, Lorn sees that she is a redhead, and lightly freckled, with creamy skin, and a full figure under the shimmering blue tunic.
"What did you do?" she asks. "He... just turned away and left."
"Just offered an opinion...." Lorn's laugh sounds easy. "He won't be bothering anyone soon." The warm and friendly smile appears as he also steps toward the fallen junior trader. "We need to attend to your friend."
The male trader squints, rolls to his knees, glances up at the redhead, then at Lorn. "What did you do to Halthor? He'd like as kill you, student magus or not." He slowly rises to his feet, but he shivers and staggers.
Lorn extends a hand. "As I told your lady friend, I offered my opinion to the fellow, that he take himself elsewhere."
"He's never heeded anyone's advice before." The trader groans as he straightens up. "Cracked in my skull."
"This... young man," says the woman, "offered it rather persuasively. Halthor was almost doubled over. He has a cracked rib or two, perhaps."
The male trader lowers his head and holds it in both hands. "My head's splitting."
"I'm sure it only feels that way," says the woman.
Lorn's fingers brush the man's skull.
"That's better," admits the wounded trader.
Somehow the slight healing Lorn can offer the trader also lessens his own headache, if marginally.
"Are you a healer, young ser?" asks the woman.
"Me?" Lorn shakes his head ingenuously. "I've picked up some from my older sister, who is, but I'm afraid I'm poor in comparison to her." He looks eastward, along the white stones of the road, past two couples who are strolling in a leisurely fashion down the cross-street toward the pavilions that wait on the beach front park. "I think you do need to lie down before long. Are your... quarters far from here?"
"No. Just two streets up." The trader takes a step and pales, then takes another.
"Are you sure you're all right, Alyet?" asks the woman.
"For two streets... yes."
Lorn takes the man's arm once more. "Just lean on me."
"And me." The woman takes his other arm, and the three walk slowly eastward until they reach an archway on the uphill side of the way.
"There..." mumbles Alyet. "There."
The woman and Lorn guide the trader up three steps and toward a darkened doorway to the left. She fumbles a shining brass key from Alyet's belt wallet and unlocks the door.
Once inside, they cross a small sitting room that holds but a small table with two chairs, and a low settee under the high window. A sleeping chamber barely big enough for the bed and a chest lies through a narrow archway.
They help Alyet lower himself onto the bed that is draped with a dark blue coverlet.
"Are you sure he'll be all right?" asks the woman.
"He has some bad bruises, and a lump on his skull, but nothing's broken, I think," Lorn ventures, "and his head will ache for days."
"Ryalth... be careful... sorry... don't think I can see you home," Alyet apologizes.
"I'll make sure she's safe,;" Lorn promises. "Don't you worry."
Ryalth raises her well-formed but narrow eyebrows. She does not protest as they leave Alyet's quarters.
Once they are back on the Road of Eternal Light, standing beneath the arch of curved white stone-merely alabaster, and not sunstone-Lorn turns to Ryalth, "We should decide what we should do tonight."
Her eyebrows arch. "I do not know you, ser, and you appear to be a student."
"I am indeed a student, but that's all the more reason for you not to worry. Besides, you scarcely need to end the evening on such an upsetting note." Lorn takes the young woman's hand and smiles winningly.


V