"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 3 - Sword Of Bheleu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

a few guardsmen in order to convince the humans that he would come and go as
he pleased, with or without their permission.
It might be fun to kill a few guardsmen; he would use the sword, of
course, and hack at them until...
He caught himself and glanced down at the glowing ruby before Frima had
time to say anything.
It would not be fun to kill anyone. Humans had just as much right to
live as he himself did. If he were forced into a confrontation with the
Baron's soldiers, he would just have to hope that he could bluff them out of
attacking, as he had done once before. He would not kill anyone if he could
help it.
He didn't want to harm anyone, he told himself.
He had to repeat it over and over as he rode through the streets,
watching the townspeople scatter at his approach. He had to resist the
temptation to order Koros to charge, to ride them down like so many goats, to
snatch the great sword from the warbeast's harness and swing it among them.
By the time he reached the King's Inn he was muttering aloud, "I mustn't
harm them, I mustn't kill anyone."

Far to the west, in the city of Dûsarra, in a room draped in black and
deep red and lit by a single huge candle, a pudgy, balding man in a flowing
black robe held a clear crystal globe and stared into its depths. Constant use
of the scrying glass was tiring and it seemed to age him, but it was one of
his greatest pleasures. His abilities grew stronger with practice, and of late
he had practiced much.
He had not, however, practiced as much as he might have liked; he had
other duties now, many of them. A month ago he had been under orders that
severely limited his use of the glass, but when his special abilities were not
needed his time had been entirely his own. Now he had no restraints upon him,
no one who could tell him what to do or not to do; but with this freedom had
come responsibility for all the affairs of his sect. He, Haggat, was the new
high priest of Aghad, god of fear and hatred, and it was his job to keep the
cult healthy and active. He could not do that merely by studying his glass; he
had to sit in judgment on disputes, choose what course the cult would take,
and sift through and consider all the information gathered by means both
magical and mundane.
He had delegated many tasks, as many as he thought be could without
weakening his authority, but he still found much of his time being spent on
administrative trivia. It was a relief and a joy when he could return to his
first love, spying.
Unfortunately, his time was running out; be had to go and tend to
business, choosing a candidate for the night's sacrifice. He could not put it
off if the victim was to be readied in time.
That was a great pity; be bad been watching his favorite subject, the
overman who had made him high priest by slaying his predecessor. Garth's image
had been hard to summon of late, and Haggat did not think it was entirely due
to increasing distance. Something was interfering, some magical force of great
power. It was probably the Sword of Bheleu that was responsible.
The overman was not doing anything of great interest at the moment; he
had apparently arrived in Skelleth and was making his way through the streets.