"Martha Wells - Thorns" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wells Martha)

I was seated at my dressing table, in my bedchamber, and the door connecting it with my parlor stood
open. I heard stealthy footsteps cross the carpet, and pause just out of my range of vision.

I smiled, and said, "Oh, do come in and get it over with."

He took that last brave step and stood framed in my bedchamber door. It was Kohler's cavalry-troop
valet, clutching a stout walking stick in one sweaty paw.

I admit to disappointment. It's an insult when they send their servants to kill you. My displeasure must
have been evident. He gripped the walking stick more firmly, muttered something like, "For King and
country," and rushed at me.

I whipped up my mirror and he caught sight of his own reflection. He stumbled in his headlong rush and
froze, as my charm took effect. I had had ample time to prepare it as he crept across the parlor.

His eyes were stunned, then terrified as white whiskers sprouted beneath his nose and gray patches of
hair appeared on his face. That face shrunk steadily, disappearing finally within his collar as his suit of
clothes collapsed.

I slammed my mirror down on the dressing table and stood, stepping over the confused mouse as it
struggled to free itself from the pile of clothing. I hurried from the room without bothering with hat or
cloak; I was angry now, truly angry, for the first time since Kohler had arrived.

I took the servants' stairs, which were deserted at this hour, except for two gossiping downstairs maids
who fled in panic at my appearance. As I pushed open the baize door I sensed something behind me,
and turned just as the second of Kohler's servants was swinging one of our best silver candlesticks
straight at my head. I ducked, muttering the first charm that came to mind, and the man cursed and
dropped the suddenly red-hot silver.

Before I could take further action, the servant gave a choked cry and stumbled forward to collapse at my
feet. Behind him stood Brooks, our head butler, armed with the other candlestick of the pair.

"Very good, Brooks," I said. Brooks has been with us a long time and knows the family history better
than Dearing.

"Not at all, Madame." He stepped over the moaning body of Kohler's servant and held the door for me,
snapping his fingers for the footmen gathering in the passage behind him to attend to the clutter. "Will
Madame be needing the coach brought round?"

"No, thank you, Brooks, I haven't time." I hurried for the outer door. "Oh, Brooks." I paused. "There
seems to be a mouse in my rooms. Better have one of the cats sent up."

"At once, Madame."

The night was dank and chill, but the moon was full and my blood was up. I could smell Kohler, the third
of his servants, and horse on the night air. At the end of the graveled drive the oak tree informed me that
Kohler had indeed passed this way, heading toward the forest.

Swift travel has long been one of my skills, and the moon gives me strength. I sped after him, sometimes
on the muddy road, sometimes through the fields when the hedges permitted it.