"Terry Goodkind. Faith of the Fallen (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

squirrel chattering an objection to something, or perhaps arguing over his
territory. He'd been doing it for what seemed' an hour. The stream babbled
on without letup.

This was Richard's idea of restful.

"I hate this," she muttered.

"You should be happy-lying about without anything to do."

"And I bet you would be happy to trade places?"

"I am Mord-Sith. For a Mord-Sith, nothing could be worse than to
die in bed." Her blue eyes turned to Kahlan's. "Old and toothless," she
added. "I didn't mean; that you-"

"I know what you meant."

Cara looked relieved. "Anyway, you couldn't die-that would be too
easy. You never do anything easy."

"I married Richard."

"See what I mean?"

Kahlan smiled.

Cara dunked the cloth in a pail on the floor and wrung it out as
she stood. "It` isn't too bad, is it? Just lying there?"

"How would you like to have to have someone push a wooden bowl
under yours. bottom every time your bladder was full?"

Cara carefully blotted the damp cloth along Kahlan's neck. "I
don't mind doing it for a sister of the Agiel."

The Agiel, the weapon a Mord-Sith always carried, looked like
nothing more; than a short, red leather rod hanging on a fine chain from
her right wrist. A Mord~. Sith's Agiel was never more than a flick away
from her grip. It somehow functioned: by means of the magic of a
Mord-Sith's bond to the Lord Rahl.

Kahlan had once felt the partial touch of an Agiel. In a blinding
instant, it could inflict the kind of pain that the entire gang of men had
dealt Kahlan. The touch of a, Mord-Sith's Agiel was easily capable of
delivering bone-breaking torture, and just as easily, if she desired,
death.

Richard had given Kahlan the Agiel that had belonged to Denna, the
Mord-Sith