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Faith of the Fallen :: Goodkind Terry
Страница: 582 из 617"What difference does it make? Where have we to go before morning? When morning comes, we can go up to the blacksmith's place or tothe carving areas over there and hopefully find Richard, but we can do nothing tonight."
"Maybe he will be at his room, now."
"You want to run into Nicci again? You know what she's capable of. The next time we may not be so lucky to escape. We haven't come all this way to battle her-I just want to see Richard. Even if Richard goes back there-and we don't know that he will-we do know he's got to return here in the morning."
"I suppose," Cara grouched.
The sky was taking on a faint reddish glow by the time they made it to the foot of the marble steps. They could hear moaning and wailing up ahead.
Kahlan couldn't see the cause, but people up on the plaza were weeping freely. Oddly enough, some people could be heard to laugh joyfully. A few others cursed, as if they had been robbed of their life savings at the point of a knife.
As they slowly made their way up the steps, Kahlan and Cara tried to stay low behind the people surrounding them so as not to draw attention to themselves. The plaza above was lit by dozens of torches, their flickering light giving an indication of the vastness of the crowds. The smell of the burning pitch mixed sourly with the stale sweat of the packed multitude.
Through a momentary gap between people in front of her, Kahlan snatcheda quick glance ahead. She blinked at what she saw, but it was gone almost as fast as she saw it, screened by the throng. The people ahead wept some, it sounded, with joy.
Kahlan began to make out the polite voices of men asking the crowd to keep moving, imploring them to give others a chance. The ragtag collection of people steadily advanced up onto the white marble of the plaza, like beggars at a coronation. The torchlight was finally being replaced by radiant daylight as the sun cleared the horizon. Golden rays washed the face of the palace.
The scenes carved in the stone up on the walls were disturbing. If they were any different from the others she had seen in the Old World, it was only in that they were more gruesome, more horrifying, more desolately hopeless, and more plentiful.
Kahlan's mind played over the lines of her statue of Spirit. The idea of Richard having to carve such things as she saw up on the walls sickened her.
She felt a sense of gloom overcoming her. This was the Order: pain, suffering, death. This was what was in store for the New World at the hands of these monsters. She couldn't take her eyes from the scenes on the walls, from the fate that awaited the people of her homeland-the fate so many blindly embraced.
"Maybe he will be at his room, now."
"You want to run into Nicci again? You know what she's capable of. The next time we may not be so lucky to escape. We haven't come all this way to battle her-I just want to see Richard. Even if Richard goes back there-and we don't know that he will-we do know he's got to return here in the morning."
"I suppose," Cara grouched.
The sky was taking on a faint reddish glow by the time they made it to the foot of the marble steps. They could hear moaning and wailing up ahead.
Kahlan couldn't see the cause, but people up on the plaza were weeping freely. Oddly enough, some people could be heard to laugh joyfully. A few others cursed, as if they had been robbed of their life savings at the point of a knife.
As they slowly made their way up the steps, Kahlan and Cara tried to stay low behind the people surrounding them so as not to draw attention to themselves. The plaza above was lit by dozens of torches, their flickering light giving an indication of the vastness of the crowds. The smell of the burning pitch mixed sourly with the stale sweat of the packed multitude.
Through a momentary gap between people in front of her, Kahlan snatcheda quick glance ahead. She blinked at what she saw, but it was gone almost as fast as she saw it, screened by the throng. The people ahead wept some, it sounded, with joy.
Kahlan began to make out the polite voices of men asking the crowd to keep moving, imploring them to give others a chance. The ragtag collection of people steadily advanced up onto the white marble of the plaza, like beggars at a coronation. The torchlight was finally being replaced by radiant daylight as the sun cleared the horizon. Golden rays washed the face of the palace.
The scenes carved in the stone up on the walls were disturbing. If they were any different from the others she had seen in the Old World, it was only in that they were more gruesome, more horrifying, more desolately hopeless, and more plentiful.
Kahlan's mind played over the lines of her statue of Spirit. The idea of Richard having to carve such things as she saw up on the walls sickened her.
She felt a sense of gloom overcoming her. This was the Order: pain, suffering, death. This was what was in store for the New World at the hands of these monsters. She couldn't take her eyes from the scenes on the walls, from the fate that awaited the people of her homeland-the fate so many blindly embraced.