Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов

           Hestoppedshort,drewhimselfupproudly,threwhiswet,muddyblackcloakbackfromhisshoulder,andlaidhishandonthehiltofhismightysword.Heleanedhisblackhelmet,adornedwithwingsofabirdofprey,onhiship.Coehoornlookedattheknight’sface.Hesawtherethehardprideofawarrior,andimpudence.Hedidnotseeanyofthethingsthatshouldhavebeenvisibleinthefaceofonewhohadspentthepasttwoyearsincarceratedinaplacefromwhich–aseverythinghadindicated-hewouldonlyleaveforthescaffold.Afaintsmiletouchedthemarshal’slips.Heknewthatthedisdainfordeathandcrazycourageofyoungstersstemmedfromalackofimagination.Heknewthatperfectlywell.Hehadoncebeensuchayoungsterhimself.

           Themansittingatthetablerestedhischinonhisinterlacedfingersandlookedattheknightintently.Theyoungsterpulledhimselfuptautasastring.

           "Inorderforeverythingtobeperfectlyclear,"themanbehindthetableaddressedhim,"youshouldunderstandthatthemistakeyoumadeinthistowntwoyearsagohasnotbeenforgiven.Youaregettingonemorechance.Youaregettingonemoreorder.Mydecisionastoyourultimatefatedependsonthewayinwhichyoucarryitout."

           Theyoungknight’sfacedidnottwitch,andnordidasinglefeatheronthewingsadorningthehelmetathiship.

           "Ineverdeceiveanyone,Inevergiveanyonefalseillusions,"continuedtheman.