"R. Garcia y Robertson - Firebird" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robertson R Garcia Y)

His smile widened. тАЬThen a forest sprite, young and beautiful. What more could a vagabond want?тАЭ He
spoke with a funny foreign accent, but his tone told her he was friendly. Gently turning the tired horseтАЩs
head, she led him slowly downwind away from the troll-bearтАЩs lair. Her knight swayed alarmingly in the
saddle. тАЬFair nymph,тАЭ he called down to her. тАЬWhere are you taking us?тАЭ

She smiled over her shoulder. тАЬTo water.тАЭ He was by far the most marvelous thing she had ever found in
the woods, and she wanted to see him with his face washed.
Leading the horse back to the base of the ridgeтАФto where a spring burst from beneath tall triangular
rocksтАФshe helped her knight dismount. Sitting him down, she wet a cloth and wiped his wincing face.
He cleaned up nicely. She liked his handsome beardless face, firm and manly, but smooth to the touch.
His scalp wound was bloody but not deep, and merely needed to be cleaned, then sewn shut. Luckily
she knew which plants produced natural antibiotics, had been gathering them for the Witch.

He watched as she worked, smiling ruefully. тАЬJust when you wonder what you are fighting for, Heaven
sends a reminder.тАЭ

тАЬWhat reminder is that?тАЭ She searched through her bark basket for the right leaves.

тАЬYou really do not know, do you?тАЭ

тАЬNo. That is why I asked.тАЭ Her knight had a funny way of talking, even for a foreigner. She crushed the
leaves with a rock, mixing them with water from the spring.

тАЬI have had a most damnable day,тАЭ he told her, тАЬtrying to hold Byeli Zamak for your infant Prince Ivan.
Besieged by the boyтАЩs own uncle, upholding the honor of your dead king, and being badly beaten for my
pains. Just when I think I cannot go onтАФthat there is nothing in this benighted land worth savingтАФyou
come along. Proving me completely wrong.тАЭ

тАЬThis will hurt,тАЭ she warned him, parting his hair to expose the wound.

тАЬCertainement; so far today, everything has.тАЭ Taking that as assent, she poured her makeshift potion
onto the bloody gash. He shouted in protest, raising a steel-gloved hand to shield his head. тАЬMerde!
Does Mademoiselle mean to murder me too ?тАЭ

She grabbed his gauntlet to keep it away from the wound. тАЬNo. This will help you. I swear.тАЭ She found
her embroidery needle with her free hand.

He relaxed. тАЬCтАЩest bien, cтАЩest bien. Mademoiselle merely took me by surprise.тАЭ He sat stoically while
she poured potion on the needle, then began sewing his scalp back together, wincing when she tightened
a stitch, but otherwise acting as if she were clipping his curls. Asking, тАЬWhat may I call MademoiselleтАШтАЭ

тАЬKatya,тАЭ she replied shyly, resisting the impulse to invent. She wanted him to know her name.

тАЬEnchante. Sir Roy dтАЩRoye, Chevalier de lтАЩEtoile, et le

Baron dтАЩRoye. At your service.тАЬ He winced again, as her needle went in. тАЭWhat does Mademoiselle do
when not torturing wounded knights?тАЬ

She pulled the stitch tight, saying softly, тАЬI serve the Bone Witch.тАЭ