"Denning, Troy - Forgotten Realms - Black Wizard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)

Before Tristan could continue, however, Lord Pontswain rose smoothly to his feet, smiling politely around the table before nodding quickly at the prince.
"My... prince," he began. The pause was long enough that none could miss its significance. "Your gracious hospitality and entertainment is greatly appreciated. It is time, however, that we arrived at the true purpose of this council.
DOUGLAS NILES
"Leave us, please, to attend to the man's task of selecting the next king of Corwell." Pontswain turned back to the lords, his gesture emphasizing the prince's dismissal.
Tristan had been prepared for a maneuver of some kind, but the bhmtness of it took him by surprise. He found his voice a second later.
"My ... lord." He mimicked Pontswain's pause perfectly. "I have earned the right to attend this council, as much as any other man hereЧperhaps more than some, if such earning is measured in blood shed for the kingdom." He saw the lords who had suffered during the war nodding in mute agreement, as attention turned back to Ponstwain.
"Now, now, lad . . ." Pontswain's patronizing tone gave Tristan his opening.
"Where do you earn the right to condescend?" he growled. "The laws of the Ffolk provide that my fitness to rule will be judged alongside of yours, old manЧand it may be that it will be judged superior to yours!"
In a brief minute, the field of candidates for the kingship had been narrowed to two. Both men understood this and sized each other up for a moment before proceeding.
"None would deny," began Pontswain, "that, under the guidance of your father, you made some remarkable contributions to the realm. But your father is gone nowЧ"
"Which is why we are here...." Tristan interrupted flatly. "I stood without my father upon Freeman's Down, where my troops stopped an army of Northmen numbering four times our own! I found the Sword of Cymrych Hugh without my father, returning that weapon to the Ffolk after it had been lost for centuries! My father lay wounded within these walls when I faced the Beast in the courtyard and drove it from this castle. And it was also without my father that I pursued and slayed the Beast in mortal combat!"
"And since that time you have wasted your time drinking and carousing, and not done a single thing to better yourself!" accused Pontswain. Several of the lords turned to regard the prince somewhat critically, and he paused. It had not occurred to Tristan that his reputation would have reached these men.
"Perhaps I have enjoyed myself," Tristan finally conceded.
BLACK WIZARDS
"But it was at my own expense. I have not been collecting and hoarding a fortune by overtaxing the peasants of Corwell! " Now several lords regarded Pontswain accusingly, for it was well known that Lord Pontswain was a harsh taxer and miserly with his expenses.
"My experience as the administrator of a cantrev has given me an opportunity to prepare for the kingship. My cantrev has been prosperous far beyond the normЧ"
"Because you stood behind your stone walls while war ravaged the cantrevs of your neighbors and countrymen!"
"That accusation is not true," Pontswain returned, "and I'm glad you've given me the opportunity to respond.
"During the Darkwalker War, my troops diligently patrolled the southern shore of Corwell Firth. I myself rode at their head as we combed the moors, looking for Northmen or wolves or any kind of enemy!" Pontswain's voice quavered with outrage. "Am I to be blamed because the invaders did not challenge my lands?"
Several of the lords looked convinced, while others, such as Fergus and Dynnatt, scowled in obvious disgust.
"In any event," concluded Lord Pontswain, "your immaturity leaves little option for this council. Our king must be a man of steadiness, intelligence, and responsibility. I am clearly your better in those respects."
"Perhaps," said Friar Nolan, speaking for the first time. "And perhaps not." The cleric stood, and all of the lords waited patiently for him to speak. Though most of them did not actively worship the new gods of the devout cleric, Friar Nolan was regarded by them all with respect and a little awe. After all, his potent healing magic had benefitted more than one of them.
"It seems to me that you are all in too much of a hurry to make a decision. You have a ruler above yourselves, above even your king. Turn to him for guidance in this most critical decision. Allow the High King to determine which of these men shall become your king!"
"I cannot object strongly enough," growled Pontswain.
Fergus leaped to his feet, a smile lifting his broad mustache. "I, for one, like the friar's suggestion. Let the High King choose between them."
DOUGLAS MILES
"Indeed!" chorused Koart. "Let the High King decide!"
A chorus of assents rumbled from the lords, and Tristan and Pontswain exchanged a sudden, challenging look. The prince looked back to the lords, unable to read the emotion in Pontswain's dark, confident gaze.
"I shall journey to Caer Callidyrr to petition the king for the throne of Corwell," Tristan said calmly.
"And I shall accompany youЧand win that approval!" boasted the lord.
"Decided!" mumbled Galric, lurching drunkenly to his feet and raising his mug. "Let the High King choose!"
Once again the Council of Seven sat around their U-shaped table. Seven candles illuminated the large circular chamber. Its bleak stone walls were covered in several places by plush tapestriesЧabstract designs with crimson streaks of color flowing like blood across the velvet.
Cyndre sat at the base of the U. His voice, pleasant and conversational as always, floated through the chamber. He spoke to the wizard sitting at his right hand.
"Alexei? I sense reluctance as you hear our plans."
"We could be mistaken in using the assassin so readily. I fear he is not to be trustedЧthat fat cleric could be using us to further his own ends!" the one called Alexei answered.
"How dare you challenge the decision of our master!" interrupted the wizard seated to Cyndre's left. His sharp voice emerged from a black robe. He looked identical to all of the others present, except that he allowed himself the conceit of a small diamond brooch upon his shoulder. His fingers, nervously drumming the tabletop, glittered with a sparkling array of diamond rings.
"Now, Kryphon," countered Cyndre. "Please keep the discussion on a genteel level." The master of the Seven smiled benignly. Of course, none present could see the smile within the folds of Cyndre's robe, but they all felt it.
"Very well," replied Kryphon calmly. "I ask my colleague if the threat to our liege, the High King, should be ignored."
"Of course not/' Alexei explained. "But our only evidence of threat comes from the prophecies of this cleric of Bhaal!"
BLACK WIZARDS
"A very powerful cleric, of a very powerful god," added Doric. The woman sat to Kryphon's left. Her face, like the others, was hidden within her hood, but her voice was filled with cool arrogance. Her unnaturally long fingers tapped nervously upon the tabletop.
"True. But I feel that we should, through our own methods, determine the veracity of his claims."
"Do you think that I am a fool?" Cyndre asked. "Of course I have checked, using far more accurate means than that wretch of a cleric can hope to employ! For now, that clericЧ and yes, even his 'awesome' deityЧserve our purposes!"
If Cyndre noticed the shudders of nervousness that passed among the members of his council he gave no indication. The master of the mages continued, as if talking to recalcitrant children.
"The significant kings and lords of the Ffolk have been eliminated or neutralized. The way grows clear for our liege to rule all of the Moonshaes."
"Yes, master," said Alexei quietly. "I amЧ-"
"Silence." Cyndre's single word came like music to their ears, but bound their lips like the ironclad order that it was.
The master gestured, and the Seven knew that the door to their chamber had been opened. Soon they heard the whisper of soft leather boots moving down the black corridor, and then three men entered the room, standing awkwardly at the open end of the table.
Actually, only two of them were menЧthe third was manlike, but stood taller than his companions. His arms were long and his face grotesque. Nervously licking his lips, he revealed wicked fangs.
"Well, Razfallow? What is the word from Corwell?" Cyndre's question was a formality, and no doubt the assassin knew it. The wizard's powerful scrying mirror had shown him the results of the mission as it had happened.