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- Анджей Сапковский
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- Ведьмак: Кровь эльфов
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- Стр. 83/356
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"
I
know
what
I
'm
doing
,
"
she
said
sharply
.
"
Ciri
has
fallen
into
a
trance
and
I
am
going
to
contact
her
psychically
.
I
am
going
to
enter
her
.
I
told
you
,
she
is
something
like
a
magical
transmitter
--
I
've
got
to
know
what
she
is
transmitting
,
how
,
and
from
where
she
is
drawing
the
aura
,
how
she
is
transforming
it
.
It
's
Midinváerne
,
a
favourable
night
for
such
an
undertaking
...
"
"
I
do
n't
like
it
.
"
Geralt
frowned
.
"
I
do
n't
like
it
at
all
.
"
"
Should
either
of
us
suffer
an
epileptic
fit
,
"
the
magician
said
ignoring
his
words
,
"
you
know
what
to
do
.
A
stick
between
our
teeth
,
hold
us
down
,
wait
for
it
to
pass
.
Chin
up
,
boys
.
I
've
done
this
before
.
"
Ciri
ceased
dancing
,
sank
to
her
knees
,
extended
her
arms
and
rested
her
head
on
her
lap
.
Triss
pressed
the
now
warm
amulet
to
her
temple
and
murmured
the
formula
of
a
spell
.
She
closed
her
eyes
,
concentrated
her
willpower
and
gave
out
a
burst
of
magic
.
The
sea
roared
,
waves
thundered
against
the
rocky
shore
and
exploded
in
high
geysers
amidst
the
boulders
.
She
flapped
her
wings
,
chasing
the
salty
wind
.
Indescribably
happy
,
she
dived
,
caught
up
with
a
flock
of
her
companions
,
brushed
the
crests
of
the
waves
with
her
claws
,
soared
into
the
sky
again
,
shedding
water
droplets
,
and
glided
,
tossed
by
the
gale
whistling
through
her
pinfeathers
.
Force
of
suggestion
,
she
thought
soberly
.
It
is
only
force
of
suggestion
.
Seagull
!
Triiiss
!
Triiss
!
Ciri
?
Where
are
you
?
Triiiss
!
The
cry
of
the
seagulls
ceased
.
The
magician
still
felt
the
wet
splash
of
the
breakers
but
the
sea
was
no
longer
below
her
.
Or
it
was
--
but
it
was
a
sea
of
grass
,
an
endless
plateau
stretching
as
far
as
the
horizon
.
Triss
,
with
horror
,
realised
she
was
looking
at
the
view
from
the
top
of
Sodden
Hill
.
But
it
was
not
the
Hill
.
It
could
not
be
the
Hill
.
