kaandida: переводы

→Claire got on her knees and swore, in a language she didn’t even know, and not for one moment did she doubt it was the right thing to do. In fact, it made her happy. Glowingly happy. Some part of her was screaming, He’s making you do this! but the other parts really didn’t care.

→Her fear faded away. So did her anger.

→And the symbols were moving. It made her ill to watch. She had no idea what it meant, but she could feel something happening inside, something . . .

→As it fluttered to the floor, she saw that the page was blank. Nothing on it at all. The dense writing that had been on it stayed on her arm—no, under the skin, as if she’d been tattooed with it.

→After a moment of searing pain, it loosened and slipped off on its own.

→The paper felt odd against her skin, and then it sucked in and clung to her like something alive. She panicked and tried to pull it off, but she couldn’t get a grip on it, so closely was it sticking to her arm.

→Claire slipped the paper sleeve over her arm, feeling stupid, but she didn’t see any alternatives.

→Bishop broke the lock on the book that Myrnin had given him, and opened it to flip the pages, as if looking for something in particular. He ripped out a page and pressed the two ends together to make a circle of paper, thickly filled with minute, dark writing. “Put this on your arm,” he said, and tossed it to Claire. She hesitated, and he sighed. “Put it on, or one of the many hostages to your good behavior will suffer. Do you understand? Mother, father, friends, acquaintances, complete strangers. You are not Myrnin. Don’t try to play his games.”

→Shane was hauled up and marched off, but not before he said, “Claire, I’ll find you.”

→“No,” Bishop said, and snapped his fingers to call Michael off when he snarled. “I may need the boy to control his father. Put them in a cage together.”

→Shane said, “Let me up, Michael, or fang me. One or the other.”

→They watched him skip away down the hall.

→Eve tried to kick him, but he laughed and avoided her, wagging a finger at her as he did.

→And then he was gone, walking away, as if none of it meant anything to him at all.

→Myrnin gave a bow, flourished with elaborate arm movements, and to Claire’s eyes, it was almost mocking.

→Myrnin bowed slightly, from the waist. “I am, of course, deeply grateful for your favor, my lord.”

→“Kill you?” he repeated, mystified. “Why on earth would I do such a foolish thing? Myrnin is quite right. There’s no point in killing you, none at all. I need you to run the machines of Morganville for me. I have already declared that Richard Morrell will oversee the humans. I will allow Myrnin the honor of ruling those vampires who choose to stay in my kingdom and swear fealty to me.”

→She avoided him and walked on her own to the foot of Bishop’s throne, staring up at him.

→And that was why she knew she could never really forgive him, ever again. This wasn’t the disease talking.

→Michael darted forward and slammed his friend down on the stones, snarling. He held him there. Myrnin rose and came to Claire, offering her his hand in an antique, courtly gesture.