"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 9 - The Spriggan Mirror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

Telurinon was one of the most powerful wizards in Ethshar of the Sands and was rumored to be a high
official in the Wizards’ Guild. He had reportedly supervised the Guild’s efforts to remove a usurper from
the overlord’s throne last year, though of course no one would admit to telling Gresh anything of the sort.
And Kaligir, here in Ethshar of the Rocks, was definitely a high official in the Guild—when his name and
the question of his status came up a year or so back Dina had admitted he was a Guildmaster and had
hinted that he was perhaps the city’s senior Guildmaster.
“You know them?” he asked.
“We know Telurinon. We helped him dispose of poor Tabaea. We’ve met Kaligir once or twice;
he was the one who directed us here, at Telurinon’s suggestion.”
The mere fact that this woman knew those two names made it much less likely that she was mad,
but her story was more outlandish than ever. She and her husband had helped defeat the self-proclaimed
Empress of Ethshar who had briefly taken power in Ethshar of the Sands last year? And it seemed she
and her husband got their shopping suggestions from the upper echelons of the Wizards’ Guild.
Add that to a magic castle, eternal youth, the accidental creation of the spriggans that plagued the
World, and it was a little much to accept.
“How did you come to be asking their advice?”
Karanissa frowned—the first time Gresh had seen her do so. “They weren’t advising us as much
as ordering us,” she said.
“Oh?”
“The Wizards’ Guild holds my husband responsible for the spriggans,” Karanissa explained.
“They summoned us to a meeting, back in Snowfall, and told us as much. A good many wizards have
been complaining about the silly things and demanding the Guild do something. They’ve caused a lot of
trouble. There’s a man named Ithanalin who got turned to stone or something when he tripped over a
spriggan, and was petrified until his apprentice taught herself enough magic to cure him....”
“Kilisha,” Gresh said. “I know Ithanalin and Kilisha.” That was a mild exaggeration; he had met
them, even sold them a few things, but no more than that. He remembered the fuss about Ithanalin’s
accident; he hadn’t been petrified, exactly, but Gresh supposed the exact details didn’t matter.
“Yes, well, that was one instance,” Karanissa said. “Ithanalin has been very persistent in
demanding Kaligir do something about the spriggans. There have been any number of other ruined spells
and spilled potions and wasted ingredients....”
Gresh remembered Dina’s precious blood, spilled on her cat. “Yes,” he said.
“No one’s been killed yet, so far as we know, but it seems almost as if it’s just a matter of time,
and the Guild wants Tobas to do something about the spriggans before it comes to that. He created
them, Telurinon says, so it’s his responsibility to stop them. And that starts with destroying the mirror—if
we don’t do that, it’ll just make more.”
“But first you need to find it.”
“Yes. The spriggans hid it, and we need to find it.”
“So you came to me.”
“When nothing else worked, yes.”
Gresh did not like the sound of that—but then, if the Guild had ordered them to do something
about the spriggans back in Snowfall of last year, and they had already been working on the problem for
five months, then coming to him had clearly not been their first idea. “What else did you try?” he asked.
“Well, since the Guild wanted us to do it, we thought it was only fair to ask them to help us, so
we did. We had Mereth of the Golden Door use every divination in her book, and half a dozen other
wizards, as well, but none of them could locate the mirror. We consulted three or four theurgists and
even a demonologist, to no avail—the gods apparently can’t even perceive spriggans, let alone identify
their source, no matter how roundabout you make the questions, and there don’t seem to be any demons
who deal with this sort of thing. Witches don’t have the range—I could have told them that, but Tobas
talked to a couple of others just to be sure no one had found a way during the four hundred years I was
gone. Warlocks had no idea of how to even begin looking, and the scientists and ritual dancers didn’t do