"Denning, Troy - Forgotten Realms - Silver Shadows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)

"It appears that some elves from the Forest of Tethir are attacking farms and caravans."
"Why?"
"How many reasons would you like me to name?" Laeral replied. "As you know, in a time not long past, all the elves who made their homes in the land of Tethyr, including those who dwell in the Forest of Tethir, suffered greatly at the hands of the human rulers. To all appearances, the destruction of Tethyr's royal family brought an end to this persecution. It is possible, however, that the elves are retaliating for past wrongs. Since the land of Tethyr remains lawless and chaotic, it is also likely that human settlements, trade routes, and trappers are encroaching upon elven lands. Perhaps the humans are pressing the elves, and the elves are fighting back."
"As is only natural. What interest do the Harpers have in this?"
"They want to promote some sort of settlement, a compromise that will end the turmoil and addressЧat least in partЧthe concerns of both sides."
"Ah, yes." Amlaruil paused for a grim smile. "We made such an arrangement in the forests of Cormanthor, many years ago. How well was that agreement kept, my
Silver Shadows
friend, and for how long? Today, how many elves live among those trees?"
The question was not meant for answering. Laeral acknowledged the queen's assessment of the matter with a slight nod. "I have argued that very point with several of the Master Harpers, but the decline of the elven people is not an issue the Harpers have traditionally addressed."
"So much for their vaunted concern with maintaining the Balance," the queen murmured.
"What is Balance, to those whose lives are not as long as yours and mine?" Laeral pointed out. "The Harpers' concern is genuine, but the span of their vision is decidedly shorter. They are more worried about the disruption of trade and the possibility of increasing the civil unrest in Tethyr."
"Can't you make them understand what these compromises mean to the elven People?"
"Given a few centuries, yes," Laeral replied grimly. *Khelben understands, after a fashion, but his concern focuses upon the affairs of Waterdeep. And he truly believes that a compromise is the best solution, not only for his city's trade interests, but for the elves themselves. He sees it as their best chance of survival. The humans of Tethyr are not so tolerant of other races as they were even ten or twenty years ago. It would not take much provocation to turn them against the elves. There are far too many ambitious men in Tethyr, looking for a rallying cause to aid their rise to power. I can easily envision the destruction of the elves becoming such a cause. You know what happened under the royal family. Given the general lawlessness of the land, it could be far worse this time."
"Then there is only Retreat," murmured the elven queen. She sat silent for several moments, as if letting the decision take root; then she nodded decisively. "Yes, the Sy-TkrQuessir must Retreat," she decreed, using the Elvish word for the forest folk. "I will send an ambassador
10
The Harpers
Silver Shadows
11
at once to offer them a haven in Evermeef s ancient woods."
"And if they will not come?"
The queen had thought of that, as well. Then they, like so many of the People, will fade from the land," she said with quiet resignation. "This is the twilight of the Tel'Quessir, my friend. You know that as well as I, We cannot hold back the darkness forever."
"But may that night be long in coming!" Laeral said fervently. "As for the Harpers, believe me when I say that sometimes the best way of controlling their enthusiasm is to work along with them," the mage added in a wry tone that suggested personal experience with this tactic. "Of one thing you can be certain: the Harpers will act with or without your blessing." "What do you suggest?"
"Send a Harper agent to the elves' forest stronghold to bear your invitationЧa Harper who will work toward a Balance that will favor the elven community. In this way, if the forest elves refuse to retreat to Evenneet, they will at least have an advocate. That is more than they might get otherwise."
Amlaruil studied her friend. The hesitancy in Laeral's silver-green eyes suggested that there was more to this matter, things of which the mage could not easily speak. Seldom was Laeral reticent about anything. Foreboding tightened AmlanuTs throat, but she waited with elven patience for the woman to find her own way and time.
"Let us say that I would agree to such a plan," the queen suggested calmly. "Have you an elven agent among the Harpers? A forest elf, one known to the community in question?" "No," Laeral admitted.
"Then I do not see how your plan could succeed. Most Sy-Tel'Quessir are insularЧsuspicious of all elves from outside their tribe. The People of Tethir have not sworn allegiance to me, and so they might not reeejye an
ambassador from the island. Pressed as they are, they would likely kill any non-elf who ventured too near their hidden strongholds. No, it seems to me your Harper would have little hope of survival and even less chance for success."
Laeral did not answer at once, nor did the queen press her. Their silence was filled by the sounds of the elven forest: the rustle of leaves, the soft hum of insects, the blithe call of carefree songbirds. This glade was a place of unparalleled beauty, surrounded and sustained by Evermeet's ancient magic. The island was the last haven of the elves, and its peace and security had seldom been breached. Knowing this, the mage considered her next words carefully. What she was about to suggest trod cruelly upon the elves' painful memories and touched the queen's deepest sorrow.
"There is a half-elven Harper," Laeral said slowly, "currently stationed in a city near the Forest of Tethir. She has passed successfully as an elf on other assignments. She is very convincing, very resourceful. I feel confident that she could find a way into the forest community."
The queen's face was suddenly wary. Her eyes darted toward the shimmering oval gate that had brought Laeral from the mainland to Evermeet. It was a magical bridge between the worlds of the elves and humans, and it had been born with a spark of life that had become a half-elven childЧa child that Amlaruil would forever regret. That gate had cost Amlaruil the life of her beloved husband. Grief is seldom reasonable. In AmlaruU's mind, the child and the deadly portal were as one.
"Yes," Laeral said softly, confirming the queen's unspoken conclusion. She took Amlaruil's tightly clasped hands between both of her own. "You know of whom I speak. Half-elven by birth, but willing to do anything to serve the good of the People, She has proven this again and again. Perhaps that is her way of laying
12
The Harpers
claim to a heritage that has otherwise been denied her." The queen tugged her hands free, her expression implacable. "The half-elf bears Amnestria's sword," she said coldly. "A moonblade is a greater inheritance than most noble elves can claim and more honor than she deserves."
It seems to me that steel is cold comfort," Laeral observed. "And as for honor, half-elven or not, she wields Amnestria's sword, a weapon so powerful that many an elven warrior could not touch it and live. Think on it, my friend: what better argument in the girl's favor?"
Amlaruil turned away abruptly to stare with undisguised hatred at the magical gate that had cost her so much. Duty and grief warred on her delicate face for long, agonized moments. Finally, she lifted her head to a regal angle and once again faced her friend.
"You truly believe that this . . . that she is the best person for the task? That through her efforts the lives of the forest People might be spared?"
Laeral nodded, her silvery eyes full of sympathy for the lonely elf woman and admiration for the proud queen.
Then so shall it be." Queen Amlaruil rose, speaking the words in the manner of a royal pronouncement. "Evermeet's ambassador to the Forest of Tethir will be the Harper known as Arilyn Moonblade."
The elf queen turned away and began to walk toward the palace. "So shall it be," she repeated to herself in a whisper that seemed too fragile to bear the weight of her bitterness. "But I swear before all the gods of the Seldarine, the elves would have been better served if the sword she carries had turned against her!"
Two
Tethyr was a land of many contrasts and contradictions. Ancient ways and modern notions, pretensions of royalty and egalitarian fervor commingled uneasily in a land whose natural complexity only magnified her recent woes. Tucked between the moors and mountains of Amn and the vast desert kingdoms of the far south, Tethyr possessed a mostly northern terrain and a temperate climate. The land was a hodgepodge of fertile farmland, deep forests, and sun-baked hills that were as dry and forbidding as any desert. The customs and interests of the peoples who settled each area were as diverse as the land itself.
But Zazesspur, the largest city of this troubled land, looked firmly to the south. A port city with an excellent deepwater harbor, it was set at the mouth of the Sulduskoon River and on the path of important overland routes. Zazesspur saw trade and travelers from many lands. Yet her current ruler, a southerner by the
14
The Harpers
Silver Shadows
15
name of Balik, did his best to limit the influence of outsiders. The grandson of a Calishite trader, he styled himself as pasha and cultivated an oriental splendorЧ and a distrust of northernersЧthat recalled the attitudes of his forebears. Since Pasha Balik's rise to power some dozen or so years before, parts of the city had taken on a decidedly southern character. Both the best and the worst aspects of the great city of Calimport could be found in Zazesspur. Sleek palaces of white marble, formal gardens filled with exotic plants, wide boulevards, and open-air bazaars redolent with rare spices vied for space with sprawling shanty towns and narrow, crime-ridden streets.
Oddly enough, however, most of the illegal activities of Zazesspur were conducted from the better parts of town. The School of StealthЧa school of the fighting arts which was a thinly veiled front for the powerful assassins' guildЧwas housed in a sprawling complex at the edge of the city. Intrigue was always in fashion, and the going price for an assassin's services was high: So, however, was the price on an assassin's life. Arilyn Moonblade walked lightly down the narrow back-alley street that led to the women's guildhouse, making no more sound than the narrow shadow she cast. She was a broadsword's width short of six feet tall, with raven-dark hair that hung in careless waves about her shoulders and eyes of an unusual dark blue flecked with bits of goldЧbeautiful eyes that might have inspired bardic odes, had they not been so wary and forbidding. Pale as moonlight and alert as a stalking cat, Arilyn had about her a tense, watchful air and the too-thin, too-taut look of one who seldom paused for either food or sleep. For an assassin, the choices were few and straightforward: constant vigilance, or death.
The half-elf had been a member of the assassins' guild for several months, and she was no longer considered an easy mark. Zazesspur's professional killers were strictly ranked, and the sash of pale gray s^lk that