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The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 31 из 216That has never botheredyou before."
"I've tired of it," she said, implacably stubborn. "And I'm tired of talking about that silly Sprite. Sing another song, one that will summon something fierce and strong. A starsnake!"
"They do not fly at night, child."
She folded her arms. "Then the name is stupid."
Her mother laughed a little. "Perhaps you are right. What fierce creature do you desire? A night-flying roc? A jungle cat, perhaps?"
There was a playful tone in her mother's voice. The girl understood that she was being humored, and she liked it not at all. "A behir," she said darkly, picturing a many-legged creature with the sinuous body of a snake, a fearsome crocodilian head, and a wide mouth full of wicked, translucent teeth. "It can follow us and lie in wait behind us. When your husband comes by, it will spring out and bite off his-"
"Foot," her mother supplied quickly, suspecting, quite rightly, that the little girl had placed her ambitions for the behir somewhat higher.
"Foot," agreed the child quickly, for she had lost interest in her imagined revenge. Her mother's eyes had gone wary, and her hand went to the small amulet that nestled in the hollow of her throat.
Carefully her mother eased her hand away from her amulet. "Your hair is so smooth and shiny! You look too fine for sleep. What if we run across the rooftops until we find a tavern still open? We could have cakes and sugared wine, and if there is a bard in the house, I will sing. And, yes, I will summon a fierce creature for you. A behir, a dragon-anything you like."
She wasn't fooled by the brittle gaiety of her mother's tones, or by the bribe of a rooftop romp. Though neither of them had even spoken the words aloud, the child understood that the hidden ways were safer than the streets. Quickly she tightened the laces on her soft leather shoes. It would not do to trip and fall into the grasp of her mother's husband.
"I'm ready," she announced.
Her mother eased open a shutter and lifted her onto the ledge beyond. The child leaned her small body against the wall and began to edge around the building, as confident and surefooted as a lemur.
Something caught her eye several streets to the east A tendril of magic, so powerful that her eyes perceived it as a glowing green light, twisted through the streets toward them.
Lightning jolted through her, nearly knocking her from the ledge.
Tzigone frowned, puzzled. This had not happened to the child she had been, nor had it ever been part of her dream.
"I've tired of it," she said, implacably stubborn. "And I'm tired of talking about that silly Sprite. Sing another song, one that will summon something fierce and strong. A starsnake!"
"They do not fly at night, child."
She folded her arms. "Then the name is stupid."
Her mother laughed a little. "Perhaps you are right. What fierce creature do you desire? A night-flying roc? A jungle cat, perhaps?"
There was a playful tone in her mother's voice. The girl understood that she was being humored, and she liked it not at all. "A behir," she said darkly, picturing a many-legged creature with the sinuous body of a snake, a fearsome crocodilian head, and a wide mouth full of wicked, translucent teeth. "It can follow us and lie in wait behind us. When your husband comes by, it will spring out and bite off his-"
"Foot," her mother supplied quickly, suspecting, quite rightly, that the little girl had placed her ambitions for the behir somewhat higher.
"Foot," agreed the child quickly, for she had lost interest in her imagined revenge. Her mother's eyes had gone wary, and her hand went to the small amulet that nestled in the hollow of her throat.
Carefully her mother eased her hand away from her amulet. "Your hair is so smooth and shiny! You look too fine for sleep. What if we run across the rooftops until we find a tavern still open? We could have cakes and sugared wine, and if there is a bard in the house, I will sing. And, yes, I will summon a fierce creature for you. A behir, a dragon-anything you like."
She wasn't fooled by the brittle gaiety of her mother's tones, or by the bribe of a rooftop romp. Though neither of them had even spoken the words aloud, the child understood that the hidden ways were safer than the streets. Quickly she tightened the laces on her soft leather shoes. It would not do to trip and fall into the grasp of her mother's husband.
"I'm ready," she announced.
Her mother eased open a shutter and lifted her onto the ledge beyond. The child leaned her small body against the wall and began to edge around the building, as confident and surefooted as a lemur.
Something caught her eye several streets to the east A tendril of magic, so powerful that her eyes perceived it as a glowing green light, twisted through the streets toward them.
Lightning jolted through her, nearly knocking her from the ledge.
Tzigone frowned, puzzled. This had not happened to the child she had been, nor had it ever been part of her dream.