Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов

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           Ciriprickedupherears,wantingtoheartheenchantress’sreply,hercold,hardandmelodiousvoice.Wantingtohearhowshereacted,howshesneeredatthehighpriestess,howsheridiculedherover-protectiveness.Shewantedtohearhersaywhatsheusuallysaid–thatusingmagicisnojoke,thatitisn’tanoccupationforyoungladiesmadeofporcelain,fordollsblownfromthinglass.ButYenneferansweredquietly,soquietlythatthegirlcouldneitherunderstandnorevenmakeouttheindividualwords.

           I’llfallasleep,shethought,carefullyanddelicatelyfeelinghernosewhichwasstilltender,painfulandblockedwithclottedblood.I’llgobacktomydream.I’llseewhatGeraltisdoingthere,inthenight,intherain,bythecanal…

           Yenneferwasholdingherbythehand.Theywerebothwalking

           downalong,darkcorridor,betweenstonecolumnsor,perhaps,statues.Ciricouldnotmakeouttheirformsinthethickdarkness.Buttherewassomeonethere,inthatdarkness,someonehidingandobservingthemastheywalked.Sheheardwhispers,quietastherustleofthewind.

           Yenneferwasholdingherbythehand,walkingbrisklyandassuredly,fullofdecisiveness,somuchsothatCiricouldbarelykeepupwithher.Doorsopenedbeforetheminsuccession,oneafteranother.Aninfinitenumberofdoorswithgigantic,heavyleavesopenedupbeforethemnoiselessly.

           Thedarknessthickened.Cirisawyetanothergreatdoorinfrontofher.