"Troy Denning - Return of the Archwizards 2 - The Siege" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denning Troy)

by far the loneliest and the eeriest, the one that felt most forbidden to
human eyes.
"This will be the ruin of it, you know."
Galaeron Nihmedu was sitting on his haunches beside Vala, watching the
shadow lords work. Tall and solidly built for a moon elf, he had the pale skin
and regal features common to his race, but two decades of Tomb Guard postings
along the Desert Border South had left his face rugged and weather-beaten
enough to be considered handsome even by Vaasan standards.
"The ruin of what?" she asked.
"The lake," Galaeron explained." The dirt washing out of their clothes will
settle on the cave pearls and stop them from growing. The oil from their
bodies will work its way into the mineral pads and break them up. A hundred
years from now, this will be just another mud hole."
Vala shrugged. "It's in a good cause."
"Spoken like a human." Galaeron's tone was more remorseful than unkind. "And
I find myself in agreement. How sad is that?"
"Not as sad as feeling sorry for yourself," Vala answered sharply. Elves
worshiped beauty like a god, but there were more important concerns at stake
than a lake no one ever saw, and she couldn't let its destruction sink
Galaeron into one of his dejections. "If we could ask Duirsar what he wanted,
I'm sure he'd tell us to go ahead."
"He would tell us to find another place to complete the SplicingтАФor not to
finish at all. Elves do not destroy nature's treasures to save their own."
Vala rolled her eyes. "Galaeron, you know this is the only way. If the
phaerimm aren't contained, they'll destroy more than this one lake. Far more."
"Being the only way seldom makes something the right way."

Galaeron looked back to the lake, watching the shadow lords weave their dark
curtain, then laid a hand on Vala's arm.
"But what's done is done," he said. "You can stop worrying about me."
"Sure I can," Vala said. "Someday."
Her gaze followed Galaeron's out across the lake. The cavern was lit by
three magic glowballs hovering among the stalactites. The shadow lords working
most directly beneath the brilliant light looked most human, with swarthy
complexions, dark hair, and gem-colored eyes. Others, laboring in the dim
boundaries or shadowed areas, looked more like silhouettes, their lithe bodies
bending and stretching in ghostlike whorls as they stooped down to pluck dark
filaments out of the water. They would braid three strands together and give
the resulting ribbon a single half twist, then splice it into the curtain
fringe. After half^ a dozen splices, they would weave a few strands of
shadowsilk into the fibers and speak an arcane word, and a dark fog would fill
the empty spaces and solidify into a translucent veil of murk.
Galaeron and Vala watched in silence for another quarter hour, then Galaeron
said, "They're sly, these Shadovar."
"That surprises you?"
"They a]ways surprise me." Galaeron pointed at the shadowy curtain. "You see
the way they're turning the fibers back on themselves?"
Vala gave a tentative nod. "I see, but I don't under-stand magic."
"Dimensional twisting," Galaeron explained, "to make the shadowshell
one-sided."