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A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 202 из 236The bone had a patina like old ivory, rich and warm, like pale wood polished from all the centuries of being handled.
They both did their best to stand to one side and not overwhelm me physically, but it was hard work. Even if I'd been standing up, it would have been hard work; sitting down it was nearly impossible, but we were trying to have me seem friendly. They would do the unfriendly parts if it needed doing. It was a sort of good cop, bad cop, but for politics.
Taranis, King of Light and Illusion, sat on a golden throne. He was clothed in light. His undertunic was the movement of sunlight through leaves, soft dappled light, with pinpoints of bright yellow sunlight, like tiny starbursts appearing through the light and shadow. The overtunic was the bright, almost blinding yellow of full summer sunlight on bright leaves. It was both green and gold, and neither. It was light, not cloth, and the color changed and moved as he moved. Even the rise and fall of his breathing made it dance and flow.
His hair fell in waves of golden light around a face that was so bright with light that only his eyes shone out of the dazzlement. Those eyes were three circles of brilliant, livid blue, like three circles of three different oceans, each drowning in sunlight, each a different shade of blue; but like the water they were borrowed from, they changed and shifted as if unseen currents boiled within.
So much of him moved, and not in complementary ways. It was like looking at different kinds of light on different days in different parts of the world but having them be forced together. Taranis was a collage of illumination that flashed and flowed and fluttered, and never in the same direction. I had to close my eyes. It was dizzying. I felt I'd grow sick if I looked at it long enough. I wondered if Doyle or Frost were feeling a little motion sick, or if it was just me.
But that wasn't something I could ask aloud in front of the king. Aloud I said, "King Taranis, my part-mortal eyes cannot behold your splendor without feeling quite overwhelmed. I would beg you lessen your glory so that I might look upon you without growing faint."
His voice came in a rush of music, as if he was singing some wondrous song, but he was only speaking. In my head, I knew it wasn't the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard, but my ears heard something beyond beguiling. "Whatever you need to make this conversation pleasant will be given to you. Behold, I am more easy upon mortal eyes."
I opened my eyes cautiously. He was still as bright, but the light didn't move and flow so rapidly. It was as if he'd slowed down the play of light, and his face was not quite as dazzling.
They both did their best to stand to one side and not overwhelm me physically, but it was hard work. Even if I'd been standing up, it would have been hard work; sitting down it was nearly impossible, but we were trying to have me seem friendly. They would do the unfriendly parts if it needed doing. It was a sort of good cop, bad cop, but for politics.
Taranis, King of Light and Illusion, sat on a golden throne. He was clothed in light. His undertunic was the movement of sunlight through leaves, soft dappled light, with pinpoints of bright yellow sunlight, like tiny starbursts appearing through the light and shadow. The overtunic was the bright, almost blinding yellow of full summer sunlight on bright leaves. It was both green and gold, and neither. It was light, not cloth, and the color changed and moved as he moved. Even the rise and fall of his breathing made it dance and flow.
His hair fell in waves of golden light around a face that was so bright with light that only his eyes shone out of the dazzlement. Those eyes were three circles of brilliant, livid blue, like three circles of three different oceans, each drowning in sunlight, each a different shade of blue; but like the water they were borrowed from, they changed and shifted as if unseen currents boiled within.
So much of him moved, and not in complementary ways. It was like looking at different kinds of light on different days in different parts of the world but having them be forced together. Taranis was a collage of illumination that flashed and flowed and fluttered, and never in the same direction. I had to close my eyes. It was dizzying. I felt I'd grow sick if I looked at it long enough. I wondered if Doyle or Frost were feeling a little motion sick, or if it was just me.
But that wasn't something I could ask aloud in front of the king. Aloud I said, "King Taranis, my part-mortal eyes cannot behold your splendor without feeling quite overwhelmed. I would beg you lessen your glory so that I might look upon you without growing faint."
His voice came in a rush of music, as if he was singing some wondrous song, but he was only speaking. In my head, I knew it wasn't the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard, but my ears heard something beyond beguiling. "Whatever you need to make this conversation pleasant will be given to you. Behold, I am more easy upon mortal eyes."
I opened my eyes cautiously. He was still as bright, but the light didn't move and flow so rapidly. It was as if he'd slowed down the play of light, and his face was not quite as dazzling.