"Brian Thomsen - The Nobles 04 - The Mage in the Iron Mask" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thomsen Brian M)

Prologue

Donal Loomis was a dwarfish gnome of a man, which is not to say that he claimed any
blood lineage to either the dwarves or the gnomes but rather that his overall appearance,
unfortunately, seemed to em-ulate the least favorable attributes of both races. With his
bulbous features, stunted stature, and obese waistline, he was easily considered an
un-sightly wart on the face of humankind.
The jagged facial scars that decorated his hairless head, unsightly reminders of the
painful removal of tell-tale tattoos, did not help the ugliness of his phys-ical appearance. Had
he not retired to "the Retreat" he would have been a focal point for ridicule and per-secution
almost anywhere he went.
The Retreat, as the members called it, was origi-nally a place of study, refuge, and
retirement for those who wished to devote their lives to the study of mage-craft and other
magical arts. Scholarship alone, how-ever, ceased to be enough of a reason for being or
means of survival in the dour political climes of the Moonsea region, and the elder wizards
who founded the Retreat many years ago decided that it had be-come necessary to widen
their membership to certain other members of society who might help to subsidize their
institution through financial endowments, polit-ical protection (whether by favors, military aid,
or just good old-fashioned blackmail), or diplomatic influ-ence. As a result, the institute of
learning and refuge also became a place of sanctuary for political outcasts whose assets or
knowledge could benefit their founda-tion, spies from the south or the west en route to the
east or vice versa (Harpers were usually particularly welcome temporary guests whose
incurred debts were always paid in a timely and generous manner); or just a convenient and
permanent hiding place for offspring born on the wrong side of the blanket by royals or soon
to be royals whose legitimate heirs had reason to worry about potential rivals.
As long as the accounts were met, no questions were asked, nor information given out.
As a result, numerous members of the peculiar institution who had come to accept their lives
of study had no knowl-edge of their parentage or lineage, and possessed memories solely
of their lives within the monastic walls, nor did they desire such information nor opportunities
for adventure. Loyola Ignato, one of the Retreat's founders and, according to legend, a
mage of some note, had prided himself on his abilities to indoctrinate the young and
inexperienced into the ways of life in the monastery. He was known to boast that if you gave
him a youth between the ages of two and twenty, the Retreat would have him for life, and
many nobles were more than willing to accommo-date him. Without exception the Retreat
had never lost an initiate to temporal temptations that lie be-yond the monastic walls.
Donal, however, was not one of these members for he had actually chosen the sanctuary
of the Retreat (seeing few alternatives) for himself, and, further-more, was more than
partially acquainted with his own lineage and parentage, no matter how hard he tried to
forget.
The self-labeled wart of humankind rubbed the scars that adorned his bald and wrinkled
pate. I wore my tattoos with pride, he thought to himself, if I regret anything it is their removal.
With them, I had respect, power, and prestige despite my godsfor-saken appearance.
Donal sighed.
And with them, I was soon a marked man, he con-tinued in his reflection. Such is the case
when one finds oneself on the wrong side of a revolution, and Szass Tam was one lich who
definitely didn't forgive and forget.
Donal had had his telltale tattoos painfully burnt off his facial skin, and had applied for
sanctuary at the Retreat, supplementing the mercy and pity that the elders felt toward him
with promises of devotion and the sharing of numerous secrets of conjuration. To them, he
was just another poor wizard who had fallen victim to hard times and misfortune, and so he