"Laurie Marks - Elemental Logic 01 - Fire Logic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marks Laurie)

shoulders. The farmers must have spotted the messenger on the road, and followed him into town to hear
the news. The messenger’s dirty, ragged banner hung limp from the bell tower, and Emil could scarcely
make out the single glyph imprinted on it. It was Death-and-Life, he realized finally, which was commonly
depicted on glyph cards as a pyre into which a man stepped and became a skeleton, or, alternately, from
which a skeleton stepped and became a man. It was the G’deon’s glyph, carried through Shaftal only
once in each G’deon’s lifetime: when the previous G’deon died and the new one was vested with the
power of Shaftal. It called the people to simultaneously mourn and rejoice. Soon, the messenger would
announce the death of Harald G’deon, who had given the land protection and health for thirty-five years,
and would name his successor.

Emil did not envy the young elemental selected to inherit that burden of power and decision. The
government of Shaftal had been in discord for some years, and the coastal regions were occupied by
foreigners who lacked the Paladin compunctions over the use of violence. This was a time that demanded
wisdom, and the new G’deon would not have much leisure to learn it.

A townswoman with a child clinging to her leg turned to Emil and said anxiously, “Well, it’s a pity about
Harald. But what I most want to hear is the name of his successor. It would relieve my heart to know that
the rumors we’ve heard are wrong.”

“Rumors?” said Emil. “I’m sorry, I was isolated all winter, and have only just come into town.”

“Well, they say that even though Harald has known since autumn that he was dying, he refused to name a
successor. Surely he did it at the end, though. He’d change his mind when he felt the breath of death at
his heels. And now all this Sainnite nonsense will come to an end, at last, for a young G’deon won’t fear
to act against them.”

The bell stopped ringing. The messenger, whose road-grimy clothing had once been white, stood up on
the bell platform to speak, but he could utter only a cracked whisper that those closest to him could
scarcely hear. The people pushed a big man forward to stand beside him and listen to his broken voice,
then shout his words in a voice that carried across half the town.

“Harald G’deon is dead!”

The gathered people nodded somberly.

“He vested no successor!” the big man boomed.

Some listeners groaned, and others cried out in dismay, but Emil stood silent in horror. It was
unimaginable that a G’deon would allow the accumulated power of ten generations of earth witches to
die with him.

“The House of Lilterwess has fallen in a Sainnite attack!” the big man shouted. His words were heard in
stunned silence, followed by an outcry of shock and grief that swelled to fill the square. The big man’s
final words could scarcely be heard. “No one survived.”
From every quarter, the townspeople shouted frightened, frenzied questions. The messenger sank down
onto the bell platform and replied in his broken whisper, “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Emil had already stripped off his silk gloves, and now handed them to a nearby librarian—the same one
who had been about to admit him to the vault. “What will become of us?” she cried.