"Elizabeth Vaughan - Chronicles Of The Warlands 01 - Warprize" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vaughan Elizabeth)

that stank of waste. Explain that a good healer knew when to let a patient go, that death wasnтАЩt always
an enemy. Explain that good healers didnтАЩt stubbornly refuse to acknowledge their limits. I wished them
the best of it, for it was a lesson IтАЩd never learned.

Coward that I was, I took a moment to rinse my tunic and trous of the worst of the blood. That might
save me some abuse from Anna when I returned to the castle. She claimed that I didnтАЩt own a piece of
clothing that didnтАЩt have blood on it at one time or another. The cool, wet cloth felt good against my hot
and sweaty skin.

I took a fresh bowl of water and a clean cloth and bathed the manтАЩs face. The bleeding had turned
sluggish. It would not be long now. The man sighed and relaxed, muscles releasing their tension under my
touch.

Aye, Eln would offer a lesson. But I would offer comfort to a dying man.

The water seemed to ease him, and I put the cloth down for a moment, and steadied myself. I forced
myself to rinse my hands again, working the nails to get the blood off. I took a moment to clean the one
stray lock of hair and tuck it up again. My hair was a constant irritation, the curls were never content to
stay neat on top of my head.

The kitchen had cleared again. It was the best room in the old barracks to use for the worst of the
wounded. The large tables served well, and every counter and cupboard was filled with jars and bowls
of ointments and remedies. I stared at their bright colors and the false promise of the claims that they
could cure all ails. But nothing lay there that could save this man.

A noise drew my attention down. His eyes fluttered open. Once again I took up the water and cloth. As I
worked, he focused on me, a question in his stare. I smiled.

тАЬYou are in the healing house, warrior. You took a wound. Rest now.тАЭ

He licked his lips, narrowed his eyes. тАЬLanceтАж tip broke offтАж belly.тАЭ

I nodded. No need to speak. He knew.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again and for the first time he seemed to really look at me. тАЬFought
with your father, Lady.тАЭ He gasped as the effort cost him breath. His voice was soft and tight.

I paused. Few were left that could claim to have known my father. тАЬI am sorry, but I donтАЩt know you.тАЭ

He didnтАЩt seem to hear me. One corner of his mouth turned up. тАЬYouтАЩve his eyes, child. All fey blue and
wise.тАЭ His arm trembled as he tried to raise his hand. I caught it and held it in mine. His eyes got a strange
light in them, perhaps an echo of his younger self. тАЬNow there was a king, your father. What a warrior he
was.тАЭ He looked over my shoulder, seeing into the mists of memory.

тАЬI miss him.тАЭ I said quietly.

A wave of pain crossed his face. тАЬAye, Lady,тАЭ was the breathless response. тАЬSo do we all.тАЭ He seemed
to gather strength somehow, and he squeezed my hand and gave a slight tug. I lowered my hand to his
mouth. With a rasping breath, he spoke. тАЬMy hand to yours. Bless you, Xylara, Daughter of the House
of Xy, Daughter of Xyron, Warrior King.тАЭ He pressed his dry lips to the back of my hand.