"Dragonlance - Chronicles 03 - Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragonlance)

"I? Turn my back on the world?" Astinus's voice rolled around the library as the thunder had rolled previously. "I am the world, as you well know, old friend! Countless times I have been born! Countless deaths I have died! Every tear shed - mine have flowed! Every drop of blood spilled - mine has drained! Every agony, every joy ever felt has been mine to share!
"I sit with my hand on the Sphere of Time, the sphere you made for me, old friend, and I travel the length and breadth of this world chronicling its history. I have committed the blackest deeds! I have made the noblest sacrifices. I am human, elf, and ogre. I am male and female. I have borne children. I have murdered children. I saw you as you were. I see you as you are. If I seem cold and unfeeling, it is because that is how I survive without losing my sanity! My passion goes into my words.
Those who read my books know what it is to have lived in any time, in any body that ever walked this world!"
Raistlin's hand loosed its grip on the historian's robes and he fell weakly to the floor. His strength was fading fast. But the mage clung to Astinus's words, even as he felt the coldness of death clutch his heart. I must live, just a moment longer. Lunitari, give me just a moment more, he prayed, calling upon the spirit of the moon from which Red-Robed mages draw their magic. Some word was coming, he knew. Some word that would save him. If only he could hold on!
Astinus's eyes flared as he gazed upon the dying man. The words he hurled at him had been pent up inside the chronicler for countless centuries.
"On the last, perfect day," Astinus said, his voice shaking, "the three gods will come together: Paladine in his Radiance, Queen Takhisis in her Darkness, and lastly Gilean, Lord of Neutrality. In their hands, each bears the Key of Knowledge. They will place these Keys upon the great Altar, and upon the Altar will also be placed my books - the story of every being who has lived upon Krynn throughout time! And then, at last, the world will be complete-"
Astinus stopped, appalled, realizing what he had said, what he had done.
But Raistlin's eyes no longer saw him. The hourglass pupils were dilated, the golden color surrounding them gleamed like flame.
"The Key . . ." Raistlin whispered in exultation. "The Key! I know . . . I know!"
So weak he could scarcely move, Raistlin reached into the small, nondescript pouch that hung from his belt and brought forth the marble-sized dragon orb. Holding it in his trembling hand, the mage stared into it with eyes that were fast growing dim.
"I know who you are," Raistlin murmured with his dying breath. "I know you now and I beseech you - come to my aid as you came to my aid in the Tower and in Silvanesti! Our bargain is struck! Save me, and you save yourself!"
The mage collapsed. His head with its sparse white wispy hair lolled back onto the floor, his eyes with their cursed vision closed. The hand that held the orb went limp, but its fingers did not relax. It held the orb fast in a grip stronger than death.
Little more than a heap of bones garbed in blood-red robes, Raistlin lay unmoving amid the papers that littered the spell-blasted library.
Astinus stared at the body for long moments, bathed in the garish purplish light of the two moons. Then, his head bowed, the historian left the silent library, closing and locking the door behind him with hands that shook.
Returning to his study, the historian sat for hours, gazing unseeing into the darkness.

"I tell you, it was Raistlin!"
"And I tell you, one more of your furry-elephant, teleporting-ring, plants-living-off-air stories and I'll twist that hoopak around your neck!" Flint snapped angrily.
"It was too Raistlin," Tasslehoff retorted, but he said it under his breath as the two walked along the wide, gleaming streets of the beautiful city of Palanthas. The kender knew by long association just how far he could push the dwarf and Flint's threshold for irritation was very low these days. "And don't go bothering Laurana with your wild tales, either," Flint ordered, correctly guessing Tas's intentions. "She has enough problems."
"But-"
The dwarf stopped and gazed grimly at the kender from beneath bushy white eyebrows.
"Promise?"
Tas sighed. "Oh, all right."
It wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't feel quite certain he had seen Raistlin! He and Flint were walking past the steps of the great library of Palanthas when the kender's sharp eyes caught sight of a group of monks clustered around something lying on the steps. When Flint stopped for a moment to admire some particularly fine piece of dwarven-crafted stonework in a building opposite, Tas took advantage of the opportunity to creep silently up the stairs to see what was going on.
To his amazement, he saw a man that looked just like Raistlin - golden-colored metallic skin, red robes, and all - being lifted up off the stairs and carried inside the library. But by the time the excited kender ran across the street, grabbed Flint, and hauled the grumbling dwarf back again, the group was gone.
Tasslehoff even ran up to the door, banging on it and demanding entrance. But the Aesthetic who answered appeared so horrified at the thought of a kender coming into the great library that the scandalized dwarf hustled Tas off before the monk could open his mouth.
Promises being very nebulous things to kenders, Tas considered telling Laurana anyway, but then he thought of the elf-maid's face as it had appeared lately, wan and drawn from grief, worry, and lack of sleep, and the soft-hearted kender decided maybe Flint was right. If it was Raistlin, he was probably here on some secret business of his own and wouldn't thank them for dropping in on him uninvited. Still-
Heaving a sigh, the kender walked on, kicking stones with his feet and looking around the city once more. Palanthas was well-worth the look. The city had been fabled even during the Age of Might for its beauty and grace. There was no other city on Krynn that could compare to it - at least to human thought. Built on a circular pattern like a wheel, the center was, literally, the hub of the city. All the major official buildings were located here, and the great sweeping staircases and graceful columns were breathtaking in their grandeur. From this central circle, wide avenues led off in the directions of the eight major compass points. Paved with fitted stone (dwarven work, of course) and lined with trees whose leaves were like golden lace year-round, these avenues led to the seaport on the north and to the seven gates of the Old City Wall.
Even these gates were masterpieces of architecture, each one guarded by twin minarets whose graceful towers rose over three hundred feet into the air. The Old Wall itself was carved with intricate designs, telling the story of Palanthas during the Age of Dreams. Beyond Old City Wall lay New City. Carefully planned to conform to the original design. New City extended from Old City Wall in the same circular pattern with the same wide, tree-lined avenues. There were, however, no walls around New City. The Palanthians didn't particularly like walls, (walls ruined the over-all design) and nothing in either Old or New City was ever built these days without first consulting the overall design, both within and without. Palanthas's silhouette upon the horizon in the evening was as lovely to the eye as the city itself - with one exception.
Tas's thoughts were rudely interrupted by a poke in the back from Flint.
"What is the matter with you?" the kender demanded, facing the dwarf.
"Where are we?" Flint asked surlily, hands on his hips.
"Well, we're . . ." Tas looked around. "Uh . . . that is, I think we're . . . then again, perhaps we're not." He fixed Flint with a cold stare. "How did you get us lost?"
"ME!" The dwarf exploded. "You're the guide! You're the map reader. You're the kender who knows this city like he knows his own house!"
"But I was thinking," Tas said loftily.
"What with?" Flint roared.
"I was thinking deep thoughts," Tas said in wounded tones.
"I-oh, never mind," Flint grumbled and began to peer up and down the street. He didn't quite like the looks of things.
"This certainly does seem strange," Tas said cheerfully, echoing the dwarf's thoughts. "It's so empty - not at all like the other streets of Palanthas." He stared longingly down the rows of silent empty buildings. "I wonder-"
"No," said Flint. "Absolutely not. We're going back the way we came-"
"Oh, come on!" Tas said, heading down the deserted street.
"Just a little ways, to see what's down here. You know Laurana told us to look around, inspect the forti-forta-the whatch-ma-call-its."
"Fortifications," muttered Flint, stumping reluctantly along after the kender. "And there aren't any around here, you doorknob. This is the center of the city! She meant the walls around the outside of the city."
"There aren't any walls around the outside of the city," Tas said triumphantly. "Not around New City, anyway. And if it's the center, why is it deserted? I think we should find out."
Flint snorted. The kender was beginning to make sense - a fact which caused the dwarf to shake his head and wonder if maybe he shouldn't lie down somewhere out of the sun.
The two walked for several minutes in silence, traveling deeper and deeper into the heart of the city. To one side, only a few blocks away, rose the palatial mansion of the Lord of Palanthas. They could see its towering spires from here. But ahead of them, nothing was visible. It was all lost in shadow . . .
Tas glanced into windows and stuck his nose into doorways of the buildings they passed. He and Flint proceeded clear to the end of the block before the kender spoke.
"You know, Flint," Tas said uneasily, "these buildings are all empty."
"Abandoned," said Flint in hushed tones. The dwarf laid his hand on his battle-axe, he started nervously at the sound of Tas's shrill voice.
"There's a queer feeling about this place," Tas said, edging closer to the dwarf. "I'm not afraid, mind you-"