"Alan Dean Foster - Catechist 3 - A Triumph Of Souls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

for the young servant to drop dishes or anything else. Because he now had four limbs to carry them with:
his two arms, and the pair of slick, green, sucker-laden tentacles that had sprouted noisomely from his
shoulders.

“And when he comes around, tell him that he’s still on full pay!” Hymneth remembered to shout to the
rapidly retreating menial.

Am I not the soul of tolerance and understanding?he thought. As always, it was a puzzlement to him
why his people did not love him openly, instead of from within the pit of fear.

Dispensing such magnanimity always made him feel better. He had started to rise when Tergamet
entered. One of his many advisers, he was subordinate to Peregriff, who was no doubt even now
reviewing his Lord’s schedule for the day. Tergamet was wise, and the master of a magnificent long
beard, but he had a regrettable tendency to tell Hymneth what he thought the Possessed wanted to hear,
instead of the truth. Perhaps this was understandable, in light of the warlock’s occasional tendency to set
ablaze specific portions of the anatomy of the attendants in his vicinity whenever a piece of particularly
disagreeable news was conveyed to him. In that respect, he supposed Tergamet was braver than most.

“Yes, what is it?”

“And how is my Lord this morning?” The elderly adviser bowed as low as his aging back would allow.

“Impatient, as always. So don’t bother inquiring after my condition. I know that you, as much as
everyone else in this benighted pile of stone, would rejoice at the sight of me dead.”

Tergamet fluttered a protesting hand. “Oh no, Lord! How can you think to say such a thing to me, one of
your most trusted and loyal retainers!”

“I don’t trust anyone, old man, and loyalty is a commodity to be bought, like expensive wine and cheap
women.” His irritation was growing. “What news? Not the harbor pilots again, with this nonsense about
Krakens interfering with their work. I’ve told them how to fight back, and what poisons to use.”



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 A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3

“No, Lord. It is not the harbor pilots.” Eyes that still saw sharply rose to nearly meet his. “It is the
Worm, Lord. It wishes to speak with you.”

Hymneth considered, then nodded slowly. At this news, the two small eromakadi that attended his
ankles danced excitedly around his legs. Termaget was careful to keep them in view. Simple contact
with either one could suck the life out of a man. The Possessed they merely bounced off like agitated
spaniels.

“The Worm, you say. What about?”

The senior adviser bowed again and spread his arms wide. “I do not know, my Lord. It will speak only
to you.”