Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов

           Oh,sweetgods!Deargirl!Canyoureallywalk?Run?"

           Bothhipsandherleftthighwereblackandbluewithhaematomasandswellings.Cirishudderedandhissed,pullingawayfromthemagician’shand.TrisssworeviciouslyinDwarvish,usinginexpressiblyfoullanguage.

           "Wasthatthewindmill,too?"sheasked,tryingtoremaincalm.

           "This?No.This,thiswasthewindmill."Ciripointedindifferentlytoanimpressivebruisebelowherleftknee,coveringhershin."Andtheseotherones...Theywerethependulum.Ipractisemyfencingstepsonthependulum.GeraltsaysI’malreadygoodatthependulum.HesaysI’vegot...Flair.I’vegotflair."

           "Andifyourunoutofflair"–Trissgroundherteethtogether–"Itakeitthependulumthumpsyou?"

           "Butofcourse,"thegirlconfirmed,lookingather,clearlysurprisedatthislackofknowledge."Itthumpsyou,andhow."

           "Andhere?Onyourside?Whatwasthat?Asmith’shammer?"

           Cirihissedwithpainandblushed.

           "Ifelloffthecomb..."

           "...andthecombthumpedyou,"finishedTriss,controllingherselfwithincreasingdifficulty.Cirisnorted.

           "Howcanacombthumpyouwhenit’sburiedintheground?Itcan’t!Ijustfell.Iwaspractisingajumpingpirouetteanditdidn’twork.That’swherethebruisecamefrom.BecauseIhitapost."

           "Andyoulaytherefortwodays?Inpain?Findingithardtobreathe?"

           "Notatall.Coënrubbeditandputmestraightbackonthecomb.Youhaveto,youknow?Otherwiseyoucatchfear."