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- Анджей Сапковский
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- Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов
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- Стр. 49/356
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But
a
moment
ago
,
this
child
had
been
no
ordinary
child
.
Triss
did
not
have
time
to
ponder
the
strange
event
.
The
grate
of
an
iron-clad
door
reached
her
,
coming
from
the
dark
void
of
the
corridor
which
gaped
behind
the
battered
portal
.
She
slipped
the
fur
cape
from
her
shoulders
,
removed
her
fox-fur
hat
and
,
with
a
swift
movement
of
the
head
,
tousled
her
hair
--
long
,
full
locks
the
colour
of
fresh
chestnuts
,
with
a
sheen
of
gold
,
her
pride
and
identifying
characteristic
.
Ciri
sighed
with
admiration
.
Triss
smiled
,
pleased
by
the
effect
she
'd
had
.
Beautiful
,
long
,
loose
hair
was
a
rarity
,
an
indication
of
a
woman
's
position
,
her
status
,
the
sign
of
a
free
woman
,
a
woman
who
belonged
to
herself
.
The
sign
of
an
unusual
woman
--
because
"
normal
"
maidens
wore
their
hair
in
plaits
,
"
normal
"
married
women
hid
theirs
beneath
a
caul
or
a
coif
.
Women
of
high
birth
,
including
queens
,
curled
their
hair
and
styled
it
.
Warriors
cut
it
short
.
Only
druids
and
magicians
--
and
whores
--
wore
their
hair
naturally
so
as
to
emphasise
their
independence
and
freedom
.
The
witchers
appeared
unexpectedly
and
silently
,
as
usual
,
and
,
also
as
usual
,
from
nowhere
.
They
stood
before
her
,
tall
,
slim
,
their
arms
crossed
,
the
weight
of
their
bodies
on
their
left
legs
--
a
position
from
which
,
she
knew
,
they
could
attack
in
a
split
second
.
Ciri
stood
next
to
them
,
in
an
identical
position
.
In
her
ludicrous
clothes
,
she
looked
very
funny
.
"
Welcome
to
Kaer
Morhern
,
Triss
.
"
"
Greetings
,
Geralt
.
"
He
had
changed
.
He
gave
the
impression
of
having
aged
.
Triss
knew
that
,
biologically
,
this
was
impossible
--
witchers
aged
,
certainly
,
but
too
slowly
for
an
ordinary
mortal
,
or
a
magician
as
young
as
her
,
to
notice
the
changes
.
But
one
glance
was
enough
for
her
to
realise
that
although
mutation
could
hold
back
the
physical
process
of
ageing
,
it
did
not
alter
the
mental
.
Geralt
's
face
,
slashed
by
wrinkles
,
was
the
best
evidence
of
this
.
With
a
sense
of
deep
sorrow
Triss
tore
her
gaze
away
from
the
white-haired
witcher
's
eyes
.
Eyes
which
had
evidently
seen
too
much
.
What
's
more
,
she
saw
nothing
of
what
she
had
expected
in
those
eyes
.
"
Welcome
,
"
he
repeated
.
"
We
are
glad
you
've
come
.
"
Eskel
stood
next
to
Geralt
,
resembling
the
Wolf
like
a
brother
apart
from
the
colour
of
his
hair
and
the
long
scar
which
disfigured
his
cheek
.
And
the
youngest
of
the
Kaer
Morhen
witchers
,
Lambert
,
was
there
with
his
usual
ugly
,
mocking
expression
.
Vesemir
was
not
there
.
