"Andre Norton & Lackey, Mercedes - Elvenbane 1 -The Elvenbane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

If the others knew of her forays into elven lands, though, they'd have been
outraged. Not that taking elven form and brewing trouble wasn't a standard
game for the Kin--tricks of that kind were fine if you were an ordinary
dragon.

But that a shaman would so risk herself would have horrified the rest of the
Lair.

That was part of the problem right there; the Kin were only taking
acceptable risks. Ever since Shoro had been hurt, no one wanted to take high
risks anymore.

That was why no one had come here in so long; they didn't want to risk being
seen, however unlikely that was. And they didn't want to risk playing with
energy this powerful; it might lash back at them.
Which was why no one else wanted to be FireRunner, except another
shaman. Father Dragon said that the Kin used to compete for the privilege,
but now, if there was no shaman, there was no Thunder Dance, and that was
the end of it. Was it laziness, or something else? Why, in the past year, there
couldn't have been more than a half-dozen of the Kin among the elvenkind,
and those were mostly quiet spying trips! It was almost as if the others were
afraid to go--

She certainly enjoyed her forays among the elves.

The last expedition had gone particularly well. V'larn Lord Rathekrel Treyn-
Tael was not a patient soul--

And Alara had exploited that impatience, weaving a web of trouble for him
with the dexterity of an orb-spider...

Why was it that flowers never smelled so sweet as when they were dying?

Alara reached out to the bouquet of white blooms on the dressing table, and
caressed the stem of a wilting lily, reviving it with a touch. Once again, she
glanced up at the mirror above the flower arrangement; once again, she could
find no flaw in her disguise. From the white-gold hair, to the narrow,
clawlike feet, she was the very epitome of highly bred elvenkind. Her hair
cascaded down her back to the base of her spine; her wide, slanted eyes
glowed the preferred blue-green. Her face could have been carved from the
finest marble, with high cheekbones, broad brow, thin nose, generous mouth
and determined chin. She spread out her hands before her; strange, to see
long, slender, talonless fingers instead of five claws, and equally strange to
see pale skin, translucent as fine porcelain, instead of rainbow scales, with
the iridescence overlaying a deep red-gold.

And stranger still to walk upright, balancing on two legs. She felt as if she
were always about to fall.

She had chosen to be female this time; simulating a male could be awkward,