Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion
Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию без сокращений). В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: Фэнтези, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.
- Название:The Shadow of the Lion
- Автор:
- Жанр:
- Год:неизвестен
- ISBN:нет данных
- Рейтинг книги:5 / 5. Голосов: 1
-
Избранное:Добавить в избранное
- Отзывы:
-
Ваша оценка:
- 100
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
The Shadow of the Lion: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация
Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «The Shadow of the Lion»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.
The Shadow of the Lion — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком
Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «The Shadow of the Lion», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.
Интервал:
Закладка:
Brother Mascoli bent over and completed the stack with his own hands. "Now," he said in Marco's ear. "Just pray. Pray to Saint Raphaella and Saint Hypatia, to give you the power to heal this child of God?"
How?he thought, but he obeyed, closing his eyes and putting every bit of concentration he had into a fervent, even desperate, plea. He barely noticed one of the scaled hands slip from beneath his and come to rest just over his heart. Instead he concentrated on an image that came to him from nowhere, of the dreadful wound being un-made, sealing up, closing over, leaving the flesh sweet and unmarked, linking that image to his prayer in a way he felt was right?
And then he felt something else entirely.
An upwelling within himself, first a trickle of warmth and life and energy, then a rivulet, then a stream, then a gush?energy that was somehow green, although he could not have said why, that flowed from somewhere into him, and down through his chest and into his arms and out his hands, which grew warm as it passed through them. Startled, he opened his eyes, and saw, to his open-mouthed astonishment, that it wasn't some trick of his imagination. His hands were glowing with a green light the color of sunlight passing through early leaves, and the light was sinking down and spreading over the wounded undine.
And the wound was closing, exactly as he had imagined it.
There were two?beings?of light, one to his right, and one to his left, hovering weightlessly over the water. They were vaguely human-shaped, but too bright and at the same time too diffuse to really make out anything else. They each held a hand over his head, and he knew, somehow, that this was the source of that energy that was coursing through him. Brother Mascoli and the other undine were caught fast in some sort of trance; their eyes were shut fast.
This is for your eyes only, little brother. He sensed, somehow, that the being to his right was smiling at him, that the words came from?him? Her?
Both. And neither. Meaningless, little brother. God's spirits have no gender.
He didn't know whether to be elated?to have at last that sign he had not dared hope for?or to be ashamed that he had doubted and had waited so long to use this thing he'd been given. He decided he had to be both.
And neither. Could the infant Tintoretto have painted a fresco? Some things must wait upon… maturity.
Embarrassment, the too familiar taste of humiliation at his own stupidity, his own failures; then, suddenly, the sweeter taste of something altogether different. Humility.
Of course. Sometimes, old Chiano had said, you have to wait until you're ready…
Exactly. Now?concentrate, little brother. We cannot remain much longer.
He closed his eyes again and focused his attention, until the flow of what he now knew was pure, simple power began to ebb; from a rush, to a stream, from a stream, to a rivulet, from a rivulet, to a trickle, and then it was gone.
He opened his eyes, and pulled back his hands.
The only light came, once again, from the torch in the sconce overhead. The water-chapel was utterly unchanged. But in the water, a miracle opened her eyes in wonder.
The wound was gone, exactly as he had imagined it, leaving not so much as a scar.
The newly healed undine clapped her hands with joy, and to Marco's intense embarrassment, leapt out of the water to plant wet and strangely hard lips on his cheek, as her sister who had sat at his side did the same on his other cheek.
"Well done, Marco," said Brother Mascoli heartily?but with overtones of weariness. A moment later, Marco had to put out a hand on the step to steady himself, for when he tried to stand, he was nearly bowled over by the same weariness.
The undines made a move in the direction of the water-entrance, and Brother Mascoli called out to them while Marco was still trying to get to his feet. "A moment, little sisters?who did this to you?"
The one who had been wounded turned back, although her three companions shook their heads in warning.
"It's all right?I haven't dispelled the circle," Mascoli assured them. "It's safe enough to use a True Name."
"We do not know the True Name, Elder Brother," the wounded one said solemnly. "Only that it is a thing of water or land or fire as it chooses to be, that it is a thing that is a stranger here, and that?" she hesitated. "We think that it was once a god."
Marco looked up at Brother Mascoli to see his reaction, and a shiver of fear came over him. Brother Mascoli was as white as foam.
But within a moment he had gotten hold of himself, and made a gesture of cutting in the air. With a rapid flurry of thanks, the undines plunged under the surface, and disappeared, presumably out into the canal, and from there, into cleaner water elsewhere.
"Now," Brother Mascoli said, putting a hand under Marco's elbow to help him up, "You, my young mage, are not going elsewhere until you learn the right way to do what we just cobbled together."
"Yes sir," Marco said. He knew the look on the priest's face. He might just as well try to argue with the Lion of Saint Mark. Brother Mascoli drew him in through the water-door and sat him down at a little work table, then pulled out a dismayingly heavy book. "First of all, you always cast a circle of protection. The only reason we got away with not doing so this time is because the church is within a permanent circle that only needs to be invoked, and…"
It was going to be a long evening. But at least he wouldn't be thinking about Angelina for a while.
Or so he thought, until he finally returned home the next day.
It was a shock to see her. Especially this close, and here of all places. Marco didn't know what to say when he almost bumped into Angelina Dorma… Here in Caesare's apartment?coming out of Caesare's bedroom. Not wearing an awful lot of clothing. Also, by the slight sway, anything but sober. Marco had stammered something incoherent, and bolted for the room he and Benito shared, her somewhat guilty laughter ringing in his ears.
In the security of the room he tried to work through the confusion of his feelings. She wasn't his. Never had been, the truth be told. He had no reason to feel torn up like this. After all, Angelina was just another daydream. She'd been nothing like his dream girl. Her face lacked the character, humor and… a certain something of the girl he'd seen on the Grand Canal the day he'd been brought back from the Jesolo marshes. But he had still kept Angelina on something of a pedestal… which she'd climbed off and into Caesare's bed. He needed to be alone to think this lot over.
Then he realized he wasn't even alone now. Benito was sitting on the far side of the bed, looking at him with a quizzical, slightly worried expression on his round face. For all that Benito was younger than he was, sometimes he looked older. And… at least there was no need to explain. "How long?"
"Quite a while now." Benito answered, sotto voce. "Started up seeing her while you were still in bed with that knock on the head. Seems like he took the opening you had made once he realized she was interested. They don't meet here hardly at all, though, so I was hoping you'd never find out."
Marco shook his head, trying to clear it. "Um. So what are you doing here?"
"Same as you. Old man Ventuccio gave us a half holiday because he's got a grandson to carry on the family name, in case you forgot. Only I didn't come in by the door, and I didn't drop in to see a friend at the Accademia." Benito grinned impishly. "Thought I'd catch up on my sleep 'cause I got things to do tonight."
"Oh." Marco paused. "What about Maria?"
Benito look a little uncomfortable. "She's gone on a long trip out to Murano. Got some more glassware for that ceremonial galley to fetch. You know what Maria's like. They trust her. When she's away is a good time for us to stay away, brother. Aldanto… entertains visitors."
Читать дальшеИнтервал:
Закладка:
Похожие книги на «The Shadow of the Lion»
Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «The Shadow of the Lion» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.
Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «The Shadow of the Lion» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.