"Denning, Troy - Forgotten Realms - All Shadows Fled" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)

"That can be remedied," she said, rising.
Torm caught her wrist and sat her back down. "You're not going out into the hall like that!"
"Why not?" She gave him a deadly look. "After what I've heard about what you've been doing to this body before I got here, it could hardly damage my reputation — or yours — any further! Has Ulistyl heard about this?"
Torm looked pained. "How did you — ? Oh. Elminster."
She nodded in silent satisfaction. The thief looked at
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• her, found his eyes drawn to meet her own, sighed, reminded himself again that this magnificent creature was a woman old enough to be his great granddam many times over, smiled ruefully, and turned her around to face away from him again. "You wanted a rub," he said, "and you shall have it. Then you can go down those stairs and fight off the entire Zhent army doe-naked if you want. . . but you might catch cold before they get here."
"Not if all the men of Mistledale give me the sort of hot glances you've been throwing my way," she returned. Torm chuckled and tipped some scented oil out of the bottle he'd taken from the wardrobe, rubbed his palms together, and then laid gentle fingers on her shoulders.
Sylune stiffened. "What're y—oh. Ohhh." A few pleasant minutes later, she asked almost sleepily, "How did you know I love the scent of cloves? Did Elminster tell you?"
"No," Torm replied, sounding irritated. "How, then?"
"Lady Sylune," Torm said carefully, "I am a thief." He had to hold her up to keep her from falling off the
chair as she bent over and shook with sudden, helpless
laughter.
Daggerdale, Flamerule 15
Valaster's Stand had thrust lancelike into the eastern Daggerdale sky for an age and more, and bid fair to do so for a long time to come. Long before Valaster had chosen to die there, the stand had been an arrowhead-shaped ridge that rose sharply upward as it ran northwest, to end in a jagged, overhanging point of rock under which many a traveler had camped. Wiser folk kept to the thick stand of shadowtop trees that
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marched up its back, and so stayed hidden from the eyes of predators.
The trees on the edge of the rocky point were dead or dying. Their bare branches thrust up into the sky like the gnarled fingers of a dead man, a popular roost for birds of prey. Two large and dusty buzzards sat side by side there now. Many another raptor circled, squalling at the buzzards' refusal to leave, and then flew off in search of other perches.
The two dusty birds paid them no heed, for they were deep in conversation.
"We can't get back without a mage," one said in tones that threatened to become a wail.
"If we find one powerful enough," the larger buzzard added, "there remains the problem of compelling him to create a way between the planes—and yet keep ourselves safe against his treachery."
"To say nothing of the wrath of the elders of the blood if they hold us responsible for opening a way into Shadowhome any mortal can use . . . can you imagine armies of men in the halls of the castle?"
"I could tell them it's all your fault, Atari," said the larger buzzard, sounding amused.
"I don't find this a matter for jesting," the other raptor said coldly, "even from you."
"We'd best begin lurking about cities and towers and the like, looking for wizards and trying to find out just who is mighty, and what interests drive them," the larger buzzard said. This may take a long time."
"Aren't they most likely to be found in cities?" Atari responded almost despairingly. "Yinthrim, I don't know how to look and act in a human city! We won't be able to learn anything if we're always running afoul of local laws and customs, and getting attacked!"
"How to begin, then? We—'wareF
A large, dark bird was gliding down out of the high blue sky toward them, headed silently but purposefully for their tree. The buzzards watched it nervously, shifting
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on their perches. "An eagle?" Atari guessed. "Do they eat buzzards?"
"Nothing eats buzzards, if I recall old Othortyn's teachings, except other buzzards," Yinthrim said tightly, "but if he was wrong . . ."
The eagle circled the tree, regarding them both with dark and knowing eyes. "Is this all you've managed to do?" it asked coldly. "Take bird-shape and sit around on dead trees feeling sorry for yourselves?"
"Ahorga?" Atari gasped.
"Son of Yerga," the eagle responded calmly as it came to rest, wings flapping, between them.
"We were just discussing—"
"I know; it's how I knew you. Is this all you've done— flee into the wilderlands and then sit and talk?"
"Well, no—" Atari protested, but Yinthrim interrupted.
"That's a fair summation of our doings, yes," he said. "I'd rather tarry now and plan wisely than charge into one blundering battle after another and awaken the attention of the Red Wizards, these Zhentarim, and Elminster's friends."
The eagle nodded. "Fair enough. Have you come to any conclusions as to what to do—as opposed to what not to do?"
"One question," Atari said hurriedly. "How many more of us came through with the sword and ... survived?"
"None I know of, but others of the blood seem to have found their own, separate ways into Faerun."
"Will any of them join with us," Atari asked eagerly, "in hunting down the three violators of the castle? Or the Great Foe?"
Ahorga turned a cold and glittering eye on the younger Shadowmaster. "Hot for revenge, are you? None of them—nor will I."
"What?"
Ahorga turned to see if the silent Yinthrim was as shocked as Atari, but the larger buzzard merely
shrugged and said calmly, "Say on."
Ahorga nodded. "Rushing into battle here is a very good way to get slain. They'd no doubt rather see what Faerun has to offer before getting themselves destroyed ... and so should you."
He looked back at Atari. "Go after the three rangers if you must—you're likely to find them and the Great Foe in and around Shadowdale, southeast of here—but you'd better gather some rings and wands and suchlike that wizards here use to store battle magic... you'll need such power to take even those three. You'd best get some experience in impersonating mortals of Faerun first... unless you like being burned, lashed, and transformed against your will by frightened wizards!"
"You make it sound as if every mage of this world can dispose of us with a wave of his hand," Atari said bitterly.