"Pierce, Tamora - Circle Of Magic 03 - Daja's Book E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pierce Tamora)

enough water?Ф he asked, without taking his eyes from the terraces before him.
УWhat they have they bring up from the castle, but thatТs hard water, and isnТt very
healthy for the plants. Usually water isnТt an issue - saffron doesnТt need much - but
the drought has gone on in this part of the country for three years.Ф
УI wish they had let us know earlier this summer,Ф said a light, crisp voice nearby.
УWe might have been able to help.Ф
Briar jumped. A man walked up to them around a curve in the trail that led into the
pocket valley. He was ten inches taller than BriarТs own height of five feet, slender,
with long hair streaked black and grey. At fifty-three he was older than Rosethorn by
twenty years, with a craggy face and a bushy salt-and-pepper moustache. His eyes
were his most interesting feature: black as sloes, they were framed with thick black
lashes, and set deep under heavy black brows. He was dressed well, in a pale yellow
linen shirt, loose brown linen trousers, polished boots and an open cotton overrobe
dyed an exacting shade of bronze.
Little Bear whipped the path with his plumed tail, raising a cloud of dust that made
Rosethorn sneeze.
УNiko, you scared me out of a seasonТs growth!Ф snapped Briar, more angry at
himself for not sensing that another person was nearby. УFor somebody whose whole
life is about seeing things, you go invisible real fast!Ф
УThat was my intent.Ф Niklaren GoldeyeТs smile was half-hidden under his
moustache. УI know IТve done well if I can surprise you, Briar.Ф
The boy sniffed and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. УI was concentrating on the
plants,Ф he replied. УPoor things.Ф
УCome take a closer look,Ф Rosethorn said, retrieving her water bottle from him. With
Little Bear at her side, she led the way into the tiny valley. The man and the boy
followed her.
Closer to the terraces and their contents, Briar could see what had grown there: small
flowers, not much more than a few inches high. Everything was undersized; he
guessed that the leaves and flowers might be somewhat bigger, had they got enough
water. Stopping by one terrace, he crouched and held an open hand over the ground. It
was sandier than the earth in the larger valley below, with good drainage to carry rain
away. Gently he ran a dead leaf between two fingers. As if their lives flowed in his
own veins, he felt the plantsТ struggle to bloom only a week ago. It was too dry; the
castle water was too hard with minerals. Without soft rain, these autumn-blooming
flowers had given up.
УWhat are you?Ф he wondered aloud. УHave you anything left to grow from next
spring?Ф Cupping a hand around the base of one plant, he stretched out his magic.
Something popped behind his eyes; warmth pressed his fingertips and jumped away.
The crocus he touched collapsed in ashes. White heat flooded from him, enveloping
all the plants on that terrace. Under the ground, he felt razor-sharp darts of heat as the
still-living bulbs fried. The sandy earth itself warmed. Within the length of a slow
breath, every crocus on that terrace was burned, and the soil around the crisped bulbs
had run together, half-melted.
BriarТs jaw hung open. Little Bear whined, and hid behind Rosethorn.
УThat was lightning,СФ Niko said conversationally. УLightning, where it had no
business appearing at all.Ф
Slowly Briar pulled out a pocket handkerchief and used it to pick up a lump in the
dirt. The lightningТs heat had turned parts of the sandy ground into glass.
УI donТt do lightning,Ф he protested, looking at the sun through the warm glass. The
light showed him bits of dirt and plant matter inside the glob. УThatТs Tris.Ф