"Michelle West - The Sun Sword 1 - The Broken Crown" - читать интересную книгу автора (West Michelle)

which proclaimed her birthrightтАФthe talent with which sheтАЩd been bornтАФhidden. It meant that
the needy had to actually know who she was before they could approach her with their tales of
woe.

It was so hard to say no. It was still hard. She wondered, as she pulled the edges of her woven
shawl more tightly around her shoulders, if she would ever find it easy. Levee had perfected such
a look of temper that people were afraid to speak to himтАФand he was the only healer who wore
his medallion openly no matter where he traveled.


file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Michelle%20West%20-%20The...01%20-%20The%20Broken%20Crown%20(html)%20(v.9).html (7 of 707)9-12-2006 0:14:34
 The Broken Crown.htm


Of course, Levee also had a single brow that crossed his forehead in a dark unbroken line, and his
temper suited the perpetual frown he wore; had she been injured, with nowhere to turn, sheтАЩd
probably have to be paid to approach the taciturn healer.

Askeyia aтАЩNarin had no such brow. She had no height to speak of, although she had so hoped that
she would take after her fatherтАЩs family and grow all tall and willowy by the time sheтАЩd reached
her name age. It hadnтАЩt happened; sheтАЩd slimmed down a littleтАФhard work and a poor harvest
always had that effectтАФbut sheтАЩd only gained an inch on her mother, and her mother was, to put
it politely, short.

SheтАЩd tried different hairstyles, something suitably severe, but they made her chin look chubby,
and she had, although Mother knew it was childish, her vanity. She also had an uncanny ability to
be recognized for what she was, although how or why she couldnтАЩt say.

Heal one of them, Levee would say sternly, and theyтАЩll follow you around like rats for the rest of
your life, gnawing at your strength when you can least afford to

lose it.

You think you can save the world because youтАЩre young. You canтАЩt. And if you let the pain of the
world drag you in, youтАЩll find the undertow is too strong; youтАЩll be swept away by it, and all of
the good you could have done in a long life of healing will be lost.

There are always dying men. Dying women. Dying children. They need and will always need. But
you donтАЩt owe them your life, is that clear? If you were meant to liveтАШ their lives, youтАЩd have been
born them. You werenтАЩt. Those people with broken ribs or infections or illnessesтАФ they donтАЩt
care who you are; they reach for you blindly, the same way they reach for a drink. TheyтАЩll drain
you as dry, if you give them half a chance. You canтАЩt afford to be swallowed by those needs.
Askeyia, are you listening?

She had nodded politely, thinking that Dantallon was a healer without compare, but a gentle man,
a quiet one. Most of the healerтАЩs students felt that way, but theyтАЩd long since refrained from
pointing him out as a counterexample. SheтАЩd tried it, once.

Of course, heтАЩs gentle, had been his reply. HeтАЩs the QueenтАЩs own healer. A commoner with a cold
comes near him and the KingsтАЩ personal guard will make the matter of a healing entirely moot.