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Mistrals Kiss :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 66 из 148“We can make our way between the cavern walls and the lakebed, if we pick our way carefully around the bones.”
“Be very careful,” Abe said. He was on his feet now, but his left hand and arm were coated with blood. He still held the horn cup in his right hand, though nothing else — he’d left all his weapons behind in the bedroom. Mistral had dressed and rearmed. Frost was as armed as he had begun the night. Doyle had only what he had been able to grab — no clothes limited how much you could carry.
“Frost, bind Abeloec’s wound,” said Doyle. “Then we will start for the door.”
“It is not that bad, Darkness,” Abe said.
“This is a place of power for the sluagh, not for us,” Doyle said. “I would not take the chance that you bleed to death for want of a bandage.”
Frost didn’t argue, but went to the other man with a strip of cloth torn from his own shirt. He began to bind Abe’s hand.
“Why does everything hurt more sober?” Abe asked.
“Things feel better sober, too,” Rhys said.
I looked up at him. “You say that like you know that for certain. I’ve never seen you drunk.”
“I spent most of the fifteen hundreds as drunk as my constitution would let me get. You’ve seen Abe working hard at it — we don’t stay drunk long — but I tried. Goddess knows, I tried.”
“Why then? Why that century?”
“Why not?” he asked, making a joke of it, but that was what Rhys did when he was hiding something. Frost’s arrogance, Doyle’s blankness, Rhys’s humor: different ways to hide.
“His wound will need a healer,” Frost said, “but I have done what I can.”
“Very well,” said Doyle, and he began to lead the way around the edge of the lake, toward the soft, gold shine of the door that had come because I called it. Why had it appeared all the way across the lake? Why not beside us, like the last two times? But then, why had it come at all? Why was the sluagh’s sithen, as well as the Unseelie sithen, obeying my wishes?
The shore was so narrow that Doyle had to put his back to the wall and edge along, for his shoulders were too broad. I actually fit better on the narrow path than the men, but even I had to press my naked back to the smooth cave wall. The stones weren’t cold as they would have been in an ordinary cave, but strangely warm. The lip of shore we inched across was meant for smaller things to travel, or perhaps not meant to be walked at all. The skeletons littering the shore were those of things that would have swum, or crawled, but nothing that walked upright.
“Be very careful,” Abe said. He was on his feet now, but his left hand and arm were coated with blood. He still held the horn cup in his right hand, though nothing else — he’d left all his weapons behind in the bedroom. Mistral had dressed and rearmed. Frost was as armed as he had begun the night. Doyle had only what he had been able to grab — no clothes limited how much you could carry.
“Frost, bind Abeloec’s wound,” said Doyle. “Then we will start for the door.”
“It is not that bad, Darkness,” Abe said.
“This is a place of power for the sluagh, not for us,” Doyle said. “I would not take the chance that you bleed to death for want of a bandage.”
Frost didn’t argue, but went to the other man with a strip of cloth torn from his own shirt. He began to bind Abe’s hand.
“Why does everything hurt more sober?” Abe asked.
“Things feel better sober, too,” Rhys said.
I looked up at him. “You say that like you know that for certain. I’ve never seen you drunk.”
“I spent most of the fifteen hundreds as drunk as my constitution would let me get. You’ve seen Abe working hard at it — we don’t stay drunk long — but I tried. Goddess knows, I tried.”
“Why then? Why that century?”
“Why not?” he asked, making a joke of it, but that was what Rhys did when he was hiding something. Frost’s arrogance, Doyle’s blankness, Rhys’s humor: different ways to hide.
“His wound will need a healer,” Frost said, “but I have done what I can.”
“Very well,” said Doyle, and he began to lead the way around the edge of the lake, toward the soft, gold shine of the door that had come because I called it. Why had it appeared all the way across the lake? Why not beside us, like the last two times? But then, why had it come at all? Why was the sluagh’s sithen, as well as the Unseelie sithen, obeying my wishes?
The shore was so narrow that Doyle had to put his back to the wall and edge along, for his shoulders were too broad. I actually fit better on the narrow path than the men, but even I had to press my naked back to the smooth cave wall. The stones weren’t cold as they would have been in an ordinary cave, but strangely warm. The lip of shore we inched across was meant for smaller things to travel, or perhaps not meant to be walked at all. The skeletons littering the shore were those of things that would have swum, or crawled, but nothing that walked upright.