"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 4 - Book of Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

wish to recall."
The overman shrugged. "I care little what you would have, old man. I am
not sworn to heed your every whim, only to fetch your book and aid you in your
magics."
"You are bored. What if I gave you a task that could harm no one, but
would result in great benefit for many innocent people?"
Garth stared into the depths of his empty mug, then looked up, gazing
across the table into the shadows that hid the old man's face.
"What sort of a task?"
"Slaying a dragon that has laid waste the valley of Orgul."
Garth considered. His anger was fading, but his mind was slightly hazed
with liquor. "A dragon?"
The old man nodded, once.
Garth thought it over. He was bored. He was irritable from inaction. It
would be good to travel again; to see new places, to spend each night
somewhere different from the night before. It would be good to get out of
Skelleth, away from so many unpleasant memories. It would be good to
accomplish something useful, and there could be little doubt that killing a
dragon was useful. He had never seen a dragon, but he was familiar with the
stories and legends about them. All agreed that the creatures were huge,
dangerous, and phenomenally destructive. He himself had been a destroyer far
too often in the past, he felt; here, then, he might find a chance to make up
for some of that by destroying a menace worse than he had ever been.
In a way, it might be a step toward avenging himself on Bheleu. The god
of destruction had used Garth as a puppet, and the overman resented that. He
felt that it might be a small sort of retaliation to kill a creature that
could be considered one of Bheleu's pets.
He nodded. The more he thought about the proposed adventure, the more it
appealed to him. "I think I'd like that," he said.
The Forgotten King's mouth curved into a faint smile.

Far to the west, in a windowless chamber draped in black and dark red, a
man stared at the image in his scrying glass and smiled as well. The image had
been exceptionally clear and detailed, and he had been able to read the
overman's lips. He had only the tail end of one side of the conversation, but
it was obvious that Garth was being sent on an errand of some sort. That
should provide an excellent opportunity for actions long delayed. Nearly three
years had passed since the overman had defied the cult of Aghad, smashed the
god's altar, and slain his high priest; much had happened during that period,
but the cult had not sought vengeance. Haggat, the present high priest of
Aghad, was a patient man, and had taken his time in gathering power and
planning his actions. He had wanted to be sure that nothing would interfere
with the proposed revenge. Now, at last, everything was ready.
He put down the glass, blew out the single candle that lighted the
chamber, and went to give the order that would set the prepared machinery in
motion.


CHAPTER TWO