Читать книгу Right hand. Prince of Darkness - Dmitry Nazarov - Страница 3

A perfectly shaped full moon illuminated a high picturesque hill, of which there are many in the expanses of Lakantria. That night, the colors faded, losing their daytime variety. Objects, even the slightest distance away, appeared black against the lighter sky. A cool breeze stirred the fresh spring grass along with the flowers that had encroached on its territory.

Suddenly, a strange, unnatural glow, descending on the hill from heaven itself, swayed, gradually taking on the outlines of a human figure. It didn’t seem to belong to this world, and it certainly didn’t look like the light of the sun, the glow of the moon, or the twinkling of the stars. A few more long moments – and that is exactly what they are during the hours of the full moon – and a young woman appeared at the place of the glow.

Nothing testified to her unusual nature, at least at first glance. Luxurious black hair is woven into a tight braid, as is customary in these places. Seductive lips, sharp cheekbones, slanting eyes, dark as night, but this is if you look closely. Good figure, thin but strong body, which is also not uncommon, especially among peasant women. Ankle-length dress was in line with fashion, such a style can be found both among commoners and middle-class matrons. It all depends on the fabric and decorations. Aristocrats are a different matter, they wear completely different outfits, with puffy skirts, lace, gold embroidery and harsh corsets.

The stranger who appeared on the hill easily breathed in the fresh night air and began to make strange movements. She moved her right hand, then her left, looking at them with interest. She took a few steps on the grass, stumbling a couple of times out of habit. An outside observer would have decided that the girl was drunk, and would be greatly mistaken. It was just that the guest of the sublunar world needed time to get used to the human body. She twisted her head, flexing her neck, spread her shoulders wide, and raised her face to the abyss-black sky.

– It’s all right, Master, – she said softly.

There was no need to raise her voice: the one with whom the stranger was talking would have heard an indistinct whisper. The wind ran through the tall grasses, weightlessly touched the flushed cheeks, giving the answer: “Good. Everything goes according to plan. Get used to it and look around.”

The woman nodded, and still staggered down the hillside.