"Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman. Time of the Twins ("DragonLance Legends" #1) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"Perhaps I take a greater interest in his health than you real-
ize," Raistlin replied with what was, to Crysania, a sneering
smile.
Crysania felt blood pound in her temples. Even as he had
spoken, the mage moved around the chair, coming nearer the
young woman. He was so close to her now that Crysania could
feel a strange, unnatural heat radiate from his body through his
black robes. She could smell a faintly cloying but pleasant
scent about him. A spiciness - His spell components, she real-
ized suddenly. The thought sickened and disgusted her. Hold-
ing the medallion of Paladine in her hand, feeling its smoothly
chiseled edges bite into her flesh, she moved away from him
again.
"Paladine came to me in a dream -" she said haughtily.
Raistlin laughed.
Few there were who had ever heard the mage laugh, and
those who had heard it remembered it always, resounding
through their darkest dreams. It was thin, high-pitched, and
sharp as a blade. It denied all goodness, mocked everything
right and true, and it pierced Crysania's soul.
"Very well," Crysania said, staring at him with a disdain that
hardened her bright, gray eyes to steel blue, "I have done my
best to divert you from this course. I have given you fair warn-
ing. Your destruction is now in the hands of the gods."
Suddenly, perhaps realizing the fearlessness with which she
confronted him, Raistlin's laughter ceased. Regarding her
intently, his golden eyes narrowed. Then he smiled, a secret
inner smile of such strange joy that Astinus, watching the
exchange between the two, rose to his feet. The historian's
body blocked the light of the fire. His shadow fell across them
both. Raistlin started, almost in alarm. Half-turning, he
regarded Astinus with a burning, menacing stare.
"Beware, old friend," the mage warned, "or would you med-
dle with history?"
"I do not meddle," Astinus replied, "as you well know. I am
an observer, a recorder. In all things, I am neutral. I know your
schemes, your plans as I know the schemes and plans of all who
draw breath this day. Therefore, hear me, Raistlin Majere, and
heed this warning. This one is beloved of the gods - as her
name implies."
"Beloved of the gods? So are we all, are we not, Revered
Daughter?" Raistlin asked, turning to face Crysania once more.
His voice was soft as the velvet of his robes. "Is that not written
in the Disks of Mishakall Is that not what the godly Elistan
teaches?"
"Yes," Crysania said slowly, regarding him with suspicion,
expecting more mockery. But his metallic face was serious, he
had the appearance, suddenly, of a scholar - intelligent, wise.
"So it is written." She smiled coldly. "I am pleased to find you
have read the sacred Disks, though you obviously have not