Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов

           "Theblackknight—"

           "Itwasadream.Sleeppeacefully.Itwon’tcomeback."

           Cirihadheardsuchreassurancesinthepast.Theyhadbeenrepeatedtoherendlessly;many,manytimesshehadbeenofferedcomfortingwordswhenherscreamshadwokenherduringthenight.Butthistimeitwasdifferent.Nowshebelievedit.BecauseitwasGeraltofRivia,theWhiteWolf,theWitcher,whosaidit.Themanwhowasherdestiny.Theoneforwhomshewasdestined.GeralttheWitcher,whohadfoundhersurroundedbywar,deathanddespair,whohadtakenherwithhimandpromisedtheywouldneverpart.

           Shefellasleepholdingtighttohishand.

           Thebardfinishedthesong.Tiltinghisheadalittleherepeatedtheballad’srefrainonhislute,delicately,softly,asingletonehigherthantheapprenticeaccompanyinghim.

           Noonesaidaword.Nothingbutthesubsidingmusicandthewhisperingleavesandsqueakingboughsoftheenormousoakcouldbeheard.Then,allofasudden,agoattetheredtooneofthecartswhichcircledtheancienttreebleatedlengthily.Atthatmoment,asifgivenasignal,oneofthemenseatedinthelargesemi-circularaudiencestoodup.Throwinghiscobaltbluecloakwithgoldbraidtrimbackoverhisshoulder,hegaveastiff,dignifiedbow.

           "Thankyou,MasterDandilion,"hesaid,hisvoiceresonantwithoutbeingloud."Allowme,RadcliffeofOxenfurt,MasteroftheArcana,toexpresswhatIamsureistheopinionofeveryoneherepresentandutterwordsofgratitudeandappreciationforyourfineartandskill."