"Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - War Of Souls 03 - Dragons Of A Vanished Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

BOOK 1




1

Lost Souls
In the dungeon of the Tower of High Sorcery, that had once been in Palanthas
but now resided in Nightlund, the great archmagus Raistlin Majere had conjured
a magical Pool of Seeing. By gazing into this pool, he was able to follow and
sometimes shape events transpiring in the world. Although Raistlin Majere had
been dead many long years, his magical Pool of Seeing remained in use. The
wizard Dalamar, who had inherited the Tower from his Shalafi, maintained the
magic of the pool. A veritable prisoner in the Tower that was an island in the
river of the dead, Dalamar had often made use of the pool to visit in his mind
those places he could not travel in his body.
Palin Majere stood now at the pool's edge, staring into the unwavering blue
flame that burned in the center of the still water was the chamber's only
light. Dalamar was close beside him, gaze fixed on the same unwavering fire.
Although the mages could have seen events transpiring anywhere in the world,
they

watched intently an event that was happening quite close to them, an event
taking place at the top of the very Tower in which they stood.
Goldmoon of the Citadel of Light, and Mina, Lord of the Night, leader of the
Dark Knights of Neraka, were to meet in the laboratory that had once belonged
to Raistlin Majere. Goldmoon had already arrived at the strange meeting place.
The laboratory was cold and dark and shadowed. Dalamar had left her a lantern,
but its light was feeble and served only to emphasize the darkness that could
never truly be illuminated, not if every lantern and every candle on Krynn
should burst into flame. The darkness that was the soul of this dread Tower
had its heart here in this chamber, which in the past had been a scene of
death and pain and suffering.
In this chamber, Raistlin Majere had sought to emulate the gods and create
life, only to fail utterly, bringing into the world misbegotten, shambling,
pathetic beings known as the Live Ones, who had lived out their wretched
existence in the room where the two wizards now stood. In the chamber, the
Blue Dragonlady Kitiara had died, her death as brutal and bloody as her life.
Here stood the Portal to the Abyss, a link between the realm of the mortal and
realm of the dead, a link that had long ago been severed and was nothing now
but a home to mice and spiders.
Goldmoon knew the dark history of this room. She must be considering that now,
Palin thought, watching her image that shimmered on the surface of the pool.
She stood in the laboratory, her arms clasped about her. She shivered not with
the cold, but with fear. Palin was concerned. He could not remember—in all the
years that he had known her—seeing Goldmoon afraid.
Perhaps it was the strange body that Goldmoon's spirit inhabited. She was over
ninety. Her true body was that of an elderly woman-still vigorous, still
strong for her years, but with skin marked and marred with time, a back that