"Briggs, Patricia - Sianim 3 - When Demons Walk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Briggs Patricia)

She found the music room by the main stairway, a small room dominated by the great harp that sat in
the middle of the floor. Several other large instruments were on their own stands, but the smaller ones
were arranged on various tables and shelves that lined the walls.

The flute she was looking for rested casually on a shelf next to a lap-harp, as if it were nothing but the
finely crafted, eight-holed instrument it appeared. Carved from a light-colored wood and inlaid with small


bits of semiprecious blue stone, it looked as ancient as it was. It was more battered than she’d
remembered it: several pieces of stone were missing and there was a deep scratch on one side. Even so,
she knew it was the Old Man’s: There was no mistaking the magic in it.

She shook her head at the ignorance that left such a thing within easy reach of every person who
strolled past. It was part of the magic of the flute that it attracted anyone able to use its powers. That the
house still stood was proof that the Easterners had no magic in their souls. Impulsively, she lifted it to her
lips and blew once, smiling as the off-pitch note echoed weirdly through the house.

She wondered if the nobleman had yet tried to play the instrument and been disappointed by the flat,
lifeless tones. She blew again, letting the single tone fill the empty house. The magic the flute summoned
made her fingertips tingle, and the note lifted until it was true and bright.

Smiling, she pulled it away from her lips, holding the magic a moment before letting it free, unformed.
She felt a momentary warmth that brushed her face before it was swallowed by the cold room.

She’d once heard the Old Man play it with true skill, but he seldom had taken it out, preferring more
mundane instruments for casual practice. Until she’d heard of its sale, she’d thought the flute had burned
with the rest of his effects when the Cybellians had taken the Castle.

Respectfully, she slipped it into a hidden pocket on the inside of the arm of her undershirt, and
inspected the blousy sleeve of her outer shirt to make certain the lump wasn’t obvious. One task
remained.

The temples to Altis (every Easterner’s house had one) were usually built near the entrance where the
all-seeing eyes could protect the inhabitants. So, she left the rest of the second floor unexplored and
trotted down the staircase.

It took her much less time to find the altar than it had to find the music room. At the base of the stairs
was a set of golden velvet curtains. Moving the heavy drapery dislodged a cloud of dust and left her
coughing in the sanctuary of the Easterner’s god.

It was no bigger than a large closet, and filled with a musty odor. Despite the obvious signs of disuse,
the shrine more than made up anything it lacked in size by sheer gaudiness. Gold and precious gems
covered the back wall in a glittering mosaic, creating the feline symbol that represented the god Altis. The
emeralds that formed the cat’s glittering eyes watched indifferently as Sham palmed three of the coins
she’d stolen earlier.

The first time she’d done this, the cat’s eyes had frightened her. She’d waited for lightning to strike as
she invoked her spell, but nothing had happened then, or since. Still, she couldn’t help the chill that crept
up her spine. As a warrior recognizes his enemy in battle, she gave a nod to the green eyes that watched