"Denning, Troy - Forgotten Realms - Black Wizard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)
"But what does that honorific mean?"
"In name, he is the lord of the kings of Corwell, Moray, and Snowdown. The High King is in fact the King of CallidyrrЧthe largest kingdom of the Ffolk. Though the other kings, including my father, owe fealty to him, there is no power behind the title. The current king, Carrathal, has brought much trade to CaDidyrr from the nations on the Sword Coast. He has even hired a council of mages from Waterdeep and beyond to advise him. Still, he has been no more dynamic than any of the others in providing strong leadershipЧor bringing the nations of the Ffolk together."
Tristan paused. He and his father had discussed this more than once. Because the Ffolk had no single, strong leader, the Northmen had been able to conquer many of their landsЧone by one. We cannot bring ourselves to unite against them, Tristan reflectedЧeven when they bring all of their nations together against one kingdom. But he still could not follow Daryth's argument.
"Perhaps he knew that your father had no ambitions," conceded Daryth. "But perhaps your father was not the target of this assassin. It may be that he was simply an unfortunate victimЧthe real target could be one that the High King does not know to be a loyal vassalЧthe one most responsible for the great victory of last year."
"Me?" Tristan was shocked.
"Of course, that is just a guess," admitted Daryth. "But your father was no threat to the High King. Maybe you were."
"But what could be gained by slaying me? The king has enemies by virtue of his position. Who knows how many
DOUGLAS NILES
petty cantrev lords will be arriving here to fight for my father's position? One of them could have done this."
"I think that is unlikely," argued the houndmaster. "For one thing, the graduates of the Academy of Stealth do not work cheaplyЧI doubt whether one of the cantrev lords could have afforded them."
"Perhaps they were hired by the High King, or at least by some wealthy individual of Callidyrr," Tristan said. "I cannot accept the idea that I was the target." Still, he recalled his father pushing over his chair and the dart that followed.
"Very well," Daryth shrugged. "But have a care for your back nonetheless."
"I shall. The coming council of lords gives me enough cause for nervousness, in any event. The major lords of Cor-well will ride here upon hearing of the news of my father's death. After the funeral feast they will select a new king."
"What do you plan?" asked the houndmaster.
"I plan to be the one selected."
The sliver of a moon cast little light over the vast wilderness of Myrloch Vale. It did not penetrate the thick canopy of aspen leaves, and thus the confines of the bower remained pitch black.
The shriveled figure there twisted and sat up, breathing heavily. He had slept all afternoon and now felt strong enough to move.
With exaggerated stealth, he reached a clawlike hand into his tattered pouch, pulling forth a black rock. It was curved, with smooth surfaces. Like a stone sculpture of a heart. Some of its facets were pure, deep black, and others seemed even darker. It absorbed light and radiated a faint heat. Deep within its center, it throbbed with a deep, evil cadence that few could hearЧbut those that heard it heard it most profoundly. Nervously peering into the woods surrounding him, he hunched over and clasped the object to his breast.
Rabbits and squirrels shifted uneasily throughout the woods as some nameless disturbance penetrated their rest. The flowers in the garden closed their petals. In the pond, the lilies shivered and shifted away from the sinister pres-
BLACK WIZARDS
ences, until all of the blossoms had gathered against the far shore like a nervous flock of sheep.
Suddenly, a cackle of glee passed the man's lips, and he jumped in fright. Panicked, he jerked his head about, straining to hear if he had been detected. Carefully, he wrapped the object in its filthy pouch and lay down again upon the bed of grasses.
Within the cottage, two hundred feet away, Genna thrashed in her sleep, apparently caught in the throes of a nightmare.
And Robyn sat up suddenly, drenched with sweatЧfor she had just awakened from a numbing nightmare of her own. She had dreamed of the king, her step-father, laid upon his funeral bier. Surrounding him, descending slowly, was an unspeakably menacing black mist.
"Tb Good King Kendrick. May the goddess reward him!" Lord Pontswain raised his mug, allowing foam to spill onto the broad tabletop.
The council of lords was meeting in Caer Corwell's great hall, for the royal study was not large enough to accommodate the gathered throng. The lords represented the villages and towns of the small kingdom, from tiny highland communities to thriving fishing cantrevs. They sat drinking dark ale in toast to their deceased sovereign.
All thirty-one of Corwell's cantrev lords had gathered at the castle to decide upon the future ruler of the kingdom. Tristan, as host, sat at the head of the table. Daryth sat to his right, while Randolph, in his role as captain of the castle guard, stood at the nearby door. Opposite Tristan, twoscore feet away, sat Friar Nolan, the cleric of the new gods who had won over some of the Ff oik of Corwell. Most of the Ff oik still held the Earthmother goddess to be the supreme deity, but as a rule her representatives, the druids, shunned human politics, and thus none were present.
Lord Galric lurched to his feet, splashing half the contents of his mug into the lap of the scowling Lord Koart, who sat beside him. As usual, Galric was drunk, and Tristan sup-
DOUGLAS NILES
pressed a smileЧat least one of his rivals was ill-prepared to debate him.
"King Ken'rick," shouted Galric. "A splennid ruler 'n a fine figger of a man!"
"Hear! Hear!" The chorus of agreements was followed by more slurping swallows around the table.
Tristan examined the other lords, trying to determine who was most likely to offer him a challenge. Nearby sat Lord Koart and Lord Dynnatt. Neither had acquitted himself well during the war, and Tristan hoped this fact would be enough to mark them as unfit to rule. He knew them both to be ambitious, however, and the two lords were close friendsЧhe had to beware of a potential coalition.
Farther down the table, Lord Galric's head was already dropping onto his chest. Galric ruled over a highland can-trev that had amassed considerable wealth from the mininf of copper, iron, and silver. In any event, the lord was now too drunk to make a case for himself.
Beyond Lord Galric sat Lord Pontswain. He was a smooth, handsome man, with curling brown hair that flowed past his shoulders, and a firm, crackling voice that commanded attention. He had a sharp wit, and the cutting edge of his voice often left one wondering whether he had been complimented or insulted. The prince noticed that Pontswain's mug remained full. The lord spent more time sizing up the others at the table than he did in joining the toasting.
Pontswain ruled a large and wealthy cantrev to the southwest of Corwell. Tristan knew him to be very ambitious and judged him the most significant rival at the table.
The others, such as Lord Fergus of Kingsbay and Lord Macshea of Cantrev Macsheehan, ruled small fiefdoms which were still recovering from the war. Tristan judged these lords, as council members, to be honest and reasonable men, open to persuasion by the best candidate.
For a moment the prince thought again of the meeting's purpose. His father had been buried the night before, and he was about to make a case for himself to succeed the king. He could feel his palms beginning to sweat. His mug, like Pontswain's, sat before him, barely touched.
"My lords," he began, so softly that the group was forced
Х 30*
BLACK WIZARDS
to quiet in order.to hear him, "I thank you all for attending this most significant council. Your presence at the funeral last night, as well, is appreciated.
"My father served as king for twenty-seven years. With one notable exception, these were years of peace and prosperity. Trading vessels call regularly here and at Kingsbay. Taxes have remained lowЧpractically nonexistent for those with little means to pay. I think you will all agree that he allowed you to rule your fiefdoms with little interference.
"When our neighbors in Moray suffered the misfortune of an invasion of Northmen, King Kendrick and the forces of Corwell were decisive in defeating the invasion.
"And last summer, when our own kingdom felt the brunt of such an invasion, he rallied the cantrevs to ultimate victory." Tristan didn't want to overstate his father's role in that conflict, for he knew that his own contribution gave him his best claim to the throne.
"In that campaign, where the stalwart Lords Koart and Dynnatt fought beside my own company, the Ffoik of Corwell drove off not only an army of Northmen, but supernatural horsemen. We triumphed with the aid of this potent swordЧ" he gestured to the Sword of Cymrych Hugh, "Ч over the Beast that the Northmen called their master!"
The prince paused, willing each of the lords to recall the Darkwalker War. "Many are the wounds that remain with us to this day, suffered in that struggle. Galric, whose cantrev was ravaged by the hungry wolfpack.... Fergus, and MacsheaЧtheir homes burned by the invading Northmen. Corwell itself, held by the narrowest of margins.
"While others of us, such as Ponstwain, were more fortunate. Not only were they spared the destruction of their homes, but they did not suffer the deaths of their people in combat." He paused again, allowing the facts to sink in.
| © 2025 Библиотека RealLib.org (support [a t] reallib.org) |