"Sara Douglass - The Axis Trilogy 3 - StarMan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Douglass Sara)

room.

"Azhure?" Jayme said. "Azhure?"

More plaster crumbled to the floor as further cracks and bulges raced across the wall, but Jayme was
so engrossed in the crowd's celebrations he did not hear it.

"Who is this Azhure?" Now Jayme had both hands and face pressed to the window pane in an effort
to catch the shouts of the crowd.

She is one of the many reasons for your death, fool.

Jayme whimpered in terror and his eyes refocused away from the street below him and onto the
reflection in the glass.

Plaster fell to the floor in a torrent as the wall came alive behind him.

Jayme whimpered softly again, so horrified he could not move. His eyes remained glued to the terror
in the reflection.

Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this, and yet he knew precisely what it was.

Artor, come to exact revenge for the failings of the Brother-Leader of his Seneschal.

"Beloved Lord," Jayme croaked.

In the reflection Jayme saw the wall ripple and a form bulge through, taking the shape of the icon
Jayme had scratched in the plaster days ago.

It was too much, and Jayme screwed shut his eyes in terror.

Have you not the courage to face Me, Brother-Leader? Have you not the courage to face your Lord?

Jayme felt a powerful force seize control of his body. Suddenly he was spun around and slammed
back against the window; he retained only enough power over his muscles to keep his eyelids tightly
closed. Some part of his mind not yet completely numbed with terror hoped that Artor would use too
much force and the window panes would crack behind him, allowing him to fall to a grateful death on the
cobbles below.

But Artor knew His own power, and Jayme did not hit the glass with enough force to break it.

He was held there, his feet a handspan off the floor, and none of the crowd celebrating Axis and
Azhure's marriage spared so much as a glance above to see Jayme pinned against the window as
effectively as a cruel boy will pin an ant to a piece of paper.

The great god Artor the Ploughman completed His transformation and stepped into the room. He was
stunningly, furiously angry, and His wrath was a terrible thing to behold. Jayme had failed Him. The
Seneschal was crumbling, and soon even those fragments that were left would be swept away in the evil
wind that blew over the land of Achar. Day by day Artor could feel the loss of those souls who turned
from the worship of Artor and the Way of the Plough to the worship of other gods.He was the one true