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

been missing.
The gods had not turned from men, was the message. It was
men who had turned from the gods, demanding in their pride
what Huma had sought in humility. The next day, Crysania left
her home, her wealth, her servants, her parents, and her
betrothed to move into the small, chill house that was the fore-
runner of the new Temple Elistan planned to build in Palanthas.
Now, two years later, Crysania was a Revered Daughter of
Paladine, one of a select few who had been found worthy to
lead the church through its youthful growing pangs. It was well
the church had this strong, young blood. Elistan had given
unstintingly of his life and his energy. Now, it seemed, the god
he served so faithfully would soon be summoning his cleric to
his side. And when that sorrowful event occurred, many
believed Crysania would carry on his work.
Certainly Crysania knew that she was prepared to accept the
leadership of the church, but was it enough? As she had told
Astinus, the young cleric had long felt her destiny was to per-
form some great service for the world. Guiding the church
through its daily routines, now that the war was over, seemed
dull and mundane. Daily she had prayed to Paladine to assign
her some hard task. She would sacrifice anything, she vowed,
even life itself, in the service of her beloved god.
And then had come her answer.
Now, she waited, in an eagerness she could barely restrain.
She was not frightened, not even of meeting this man, said to
be the most powerful force for evil now living on the face of
Krynn. Had her breeding permitted it, her lip would have
curled in a disdainful sneer. What evil could withstand the
mighty sword of her faith? What evil could penetrate her shin-
ing armor?
Like a knight riding to a joust, wreathed with the garlands of
his love, knowing that he cannot possibly lose with such tokens
fluttering in the wind, Crysania kept her eyes fixed on the door,
eagerly awaiting the tourney's first blows. When t-he door
opened, her hands - until now calmly folded - clasped
together in excitement.
Bertrem entered. His eyes went to Astinus, who sat immov-
able as a pillar of stone in a hard, uncomfortable chair near the
fire.
"The mage, Raistlin Majere," Bertrem said. His voice cracked
on the last syllable. Perhaps he was thinking about the last time
he had announced this visitor - the time Raistlin had been
dying, vomiting blood on the steps of the Great Library.
Astinus frowned at Bertrem's lack of self-control, and the Aes-
thetic disappeared back through the door as rapidly as his flut-
tering robes permitted.
Unconsciously, Crysania held her breath. At first she saw
nothing, only a shadow of darkness in the doorway, as if night
itself had taken form and shape within the entrance. The dark-