"Nancy Springer - Isle 05 - The Golden Swan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

without being dragged down by dark fingers. Thus, all unawares, he had won his immortality. But
Shamarra had loved TirellтАФI heard the hard undertug of anger in Praia's voice, nearly hidden by the
smooth surface flow of his wordsтАФthough Tirell wanted only to avoid her. In the end she had offered
herself to him, and in his madness he had taken her, savagely.

Raped her? The goddess? Did he really mean that? The words should have been cried out in rage or
shock, but they were not. Neither of us knew how to answer Frain's unnatural calm. He stared back at
us for a while and then turned away. .

"She went away dishonored, with her hair streaming down over her face," he said, and he would talk no
more that day.

How Trevyn knew it of Frain, I am not sure, but it was true. Frain was frightened of the savagery within,
of that which comes out in dark and dreams.

Though I had gone human, I was still a night creature by nature, napping by day, restless after dark. I
roamed the castle when other folk were abed. And that night as I roamed I met with Frain. He was
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naked, for all folk slept naked in those days, and one glance told me he was not himself. His fair and
gentle face was set in dangerous lines, and he walked like a beast that stalks its prey. As I watched, he
crouched and crept his way to the great hall, and from the wall behind the dais he took a long smiting
sword, an ornament that had not been used in yearsтАФwell, there was no need in Isle. Then he stood
there with the weapon in his one good hand and his withered arm dangling. He had to lean against the
sword's weight and contort himself for balance. He stood hearkening, but when I made a noise he did not
hear me. He was in some other place.

"Tirell," he breathed into the darkness. "Come and meet your doom, Tirell, for what you have done to
me. Fabron, you deceiving bastardтАФ"

Fabron was his father who had given him away. Frain stood taut and naked holding the great sword,
cursing Fabron and Tirell with every sort of punishment he or his gods could visit on them. The hatred in
those curses chilled me, that and the blind stare of those clear brown eyes in the night. I fled to get
Trevyn.

"Sleepwalking," he said as soon as I had told him about Frain. He came with me, lacing his breeches as
we ran. "He has been having trouble sleeping, so tonight they gave him a draught, and now he is sleeping
with a vengeance. Where is he?"

Frain had left the great hall. After a few minutes we found him prowling catlike down one of the
corridors. "Tirell, you coward, where are you?" he asked the night. The tone was full of threat. The
sword was raised.

"I have to disarm him," Trevyn said. "Dair, go get me one of the wooden practice swords from the
barracks."

He'll slice it right off, I protested.