READING.

Sword of Destiny 52
‘Tell me a story.’

‘What?’

‘Tell me a story,’ she snorted. ‘How am I supposed to sleep without a

story? I mean, really!’

‘I don’t know any damned stories. Go to sleep.’

‘You’re lying. You do. What, no one told you stories when you were little?
What are you laughing about?’

‘Nothing. I just recalled something.’

‘Aha! You see. Go on.’

‘What?’

‘Tell me a story.’

He laughed again, put his hands under his head and looked up at the stars to twinkle - мерцать
twinkling beyond the branches above their heads.

‘There was once… a cat,’ he began. ‘An ordinary, tabby mouser. And one tabby - полосатый
day that cat went off, all by itself, on a long journey to a terrible, dark A mouser - мышелов
forest. He walked… And he walked… And he walked…’

‘Don’t think,’ Ciri mumbled, cuddling up to him, ‘that I’ll fall asleep To cuddle up –
before he gets there.’ прижиматься

‘Keep quiet, little rascal. So… he walked and he walked until he came a rascal - шельма
across a fox. A red fox.’

Braenn sighed and lay down beside the Witcher, on the other side, and also
snuggled up a little.

‘Very well,’ Ciri sniffed. ‘Say what happened next.’

‘The fox looked at the cat. Who are you? he asked. I’m a cat, said the cat. A hound – охотничья
Ha, said the fox. But aren’t you afraid, cat, to be roaming the forest alone? собака
What will you do if the king comes a-hunting? With hounds and mounted mounted - верхом
hunters and beaters? I tell you, cat, said the fox, the chase is a dreadful A beater - загонщик
hardship to creatures like you and I. You have a pelt, I have a pelt, and hardship - трудность
hunters never spare creatures like us, because hunters have sweethearts A pelt – шкура
and lovers, and their little hands and necks get cold, so they make muffs to spare - жалеть
and collars for those strumpets to wear.’ A muff - муфта
A collar - ошейник
‘What are muffs?’ Ciri asked. A strumpet - проститутка

‘Don’t interrupt. And the fox went on. “I, cat, know how to outwit them; I to outwit – перехитрить
have one thousand, two hundred and eighty-six ways to outfox those
hunters, so cunning am I. And you, cat, how many ways do you have?”’

‘Oh, what a fine tale,’ Ciri said, cuddling more tightly to the Witcher.
‘What did the cat say?’ To cuddle - обнимать

‘Aye,’ whispered Braenn from the other side. ‘What did the cat say?’

The Witcher turned his head. The dryad’s eyes were sparkling, her mouth
was half-open and she was running her tongue over her lips. He could
understand. Little dryads were hungry for tales. Just like little witchers.
Because both of them were seldom told bedtime stories. Little dryads fell
asleep listening raptly to the wind blowing in the trees. Little witchers fell
asleep listening raptly to their aching arms and legs. Our eyes also shone Raptly – восхищенно
like Braenn’s when we listened to the tales of Vesemir in Kaer Morhen.
But that was long ago… So long ago…

‘Well,’ Ciri said impatiently. ‘What then?’

‘The cat said: I, fox, don’t have any ways. I only know one thing; up a tree
as quick as can be. That ought to be enough, oughtn’t it? The fox burst out
laughing. Hah, he said. What a goose you are! Flourish your stripy tail and To flourish – распушить
flee, for you’ll perish if the hunters trap you. And suddenly, from To perish – погибнуть
nowhere, the horns began to sound! And the hunters leaped out from the To be upon them –
bushes. And they saw the cat and the fox. And they were upon them!’ близиться

‘Oh!’ Ciri sniffed, and the dryad shifted suddenly.

To shift - перекладываться
‘Quiet. And they were upon them, yelling: Have them, skin them! We’ll
make muffs out of them, muffs! And they set the hounds on the fox and To skin – спустить шкуру
the cat. And the cat darted up a tree, like every cat does. Right to the very A hound – охотничья
top. But the hounds seized the fox! And before Reynard had time to use собака
any of his cunning ways, he’d been made into a collar. And the cat To seize - схватить
meowed from the top of the tree and hissed at the hunters, but they To slink – идти крадучись
couldn’t do anything to him, because the tree was as high as hell. They
stood at the foot of the tree, swearing like troopers, but they had to go
away empty-handed. And then the cat climbed down from the tree and
slunk calmly home.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Nothing. That’s the end.’

‘What about the moral?’ Ciri asked. ‘Tales always have a moral, don’t
they?’

‘Hey?’ Braenn said, hugging Geralt even harder. ‘What’s a moral?’

To hug - обнимать
‘A good story has a moral and a bad one doesn’t,’ Ciri sniffed with
conviction. Conviction - уверенность

‘That was a good one,’ the dryad yawned. ‘So it has what it ought to have.
You, moppet, should have scurried up a tree from that yghern, like that A moppet - малютка
canny tomcat. Not pondered, but scurried up the tree without a thought. To scurry - поспешить
And that is all the wisdom in it. To survive. Not to be caught.’ canny – хитрый
A tomcat – кот мужского
The Witcher laughed softly. пола
Wisdom – мудрость
‘Weren’t there any trees in the castle grounds, Ciri? In Nastrog? Instead of
coming to Brokilon you could have skinned up a tree and stayed there, at To skin – взобраться
the very top, until Kistrin’s desire to wed had waned.’ to wed – жениться
To wane – ослабевать
‘Are you mocking me?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Know what? I can’t stand you.’

‘That’s dreadful. Ciri, you’ve stabbed me in the very heart.’

‘I know,’ she nodded gravely, sniffing, and then clung tightly to him.
Gravely – серьезно
‘Sleep well, Ciri,’ he muttered, breathing in her pleasant, sparrow scent. To cling – прижиматься

‘Sleep well. Goodnight, Braenn.’

‘Deárme, Gwynbleidd.’

Above their heads a billion Brokilon branches soughed and hundreds of

billions of Brokilon leaves rustled. To sough - шуршать