"I 03 - Brothers Majere" - читать интересную книгу автора (3))

"Nothing on the floor?"
DRAQONLANCE Pneluoes
"What's this about the floor? You keep staring at it, Raist. It's just a floor, all right?"
"Yes, just a floor. Caramon, go find that bartender. What's His name . . . Yost."
"Sure, Raist." Caramon's eyes lit up. "Do you want me to bring him back?"
"No, just ask him a question. Which direction is Mereklar from here?"
"Oh." Caramon shrugged. "All right."
"I'll come with you," offered Earwig, growing bored now that the stinging and burning had faded from his eyes.
The two left. Raistlin fell limply back into his seal. He felt drained, suddenly completely bereft of energy. The line was magic, visible to his eyes only. But what did it mean? Why was it there? And why this tiny, icy sliver of fear? . . .
Caramon found Yost and the bottle of dwarven spirits. Earwig watched and listened to them for a while but soon grew restless. He didn't want to go back into the eating room. He'd been there already.
"I guess I'll go out for a walk," he said to Caramon.
"Uh, sure, Earwax. Go ahead." The big warrior nodded. His voice sounded fuzzy.
"Earwig! Oh, never mind!"
Hoopak in hand, the kender skipped through the inn's front door and ran smack into three men, standing in the moonlight.
"Excuse me," said Earwig politely.
The men were tall, muscular, and wore black leather clothing that reeked with age. Wide straps crossed their bodies, holding bags and glittering, bladed weapons.
"Hello, little one. Do you mind if we ask you a ques-
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lion?" the man standing in the middle of the three asked in a smooth, rich voice. The ruddy glow from the firelight illuminated his face, and the kender was fascinated to see that the man's skin was as black as the night around them.
"No, please do!" Earwig urged.
The man's blue eyes shone deep red in the firelight. Deftly, with a graceful and fluid movement, he caught hold of one of the kender's small hands that was sliding into one of the man's own pouches.
"I'd keep that hand to myself, if I were you," advised the black-skinned man.
"I'm sorry," said Earwig, staring at his hand as though it had leaped from his body and was now acting on its own. "I can't think how it came to be there."
"No harm done. My friends and I"Чthe man indicated the two other men standing next to himЧ"were wondering where you got that magnificent necklace?" He pointed to the silver cat's skull that hung around the kender's neck.
"What necklace?" Earwig said, confused. Truth to tell, he'd forgotten all about it. "Oh, this?" He glanced down, saw it, and held the charm out for the men to admire. "It's an heirloom, been in my family for days."
"That's too bad," said the black-skinned man. His eyes gleamed as red as the ruby eyes in the charm's skull. "We were hoping that you might remember where you got it, so that we could get one for ourselves."
"Well, I can't, but you can have this one," offered Earwig, who loved giving presents. He tried to unfasten the chain. It wouldn't give. "That's odd. Uh, well, I'm sorry, sir. I guess you can't have it."
"Yes, we're sorry, too," the leader said in a soft voice. He leaned down, nearer Earwig, and the kender saw that
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the man's red-glowing eyes were slightly slanted. "Take your time. Think about where you got it. We have all night."
"Well, I don't!" Earwig snapped. He was beginning to tire of the conversation. Besides, there was no telling what trouble Caramon was getting himself into without the kender around to keep an eye on him. Earwig moved to push past the three men, but they blocked his way. One of them put a rough hand on the kender's arm.
"We can drag the information out of you and your guts along with it!"
"Could you really do that?" Earwig asked, thinking things might be getting interesting again. "Drag out my guts? How? Through my mouth? Wouldn't it be sort of messyЧ"
The man growled, his grip on Earwig's arm tightened painfully.
"Wait!" the black-skinned man ordered. "You're positive, kender, that you can't think how you came by the necklace?"
Back to the necklace again. Earwig jerked his arm free. Now he was beginning to get irritated.
"No, I can't! Really! Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back."
The kender took a step toward the three men, giving every indication that if they didn't move, he was going to walk through them. The leader stared down at him. The red eyes flashed. Suddenly, with a fluid and graceful bow, he glided to one side of the door. His henchmen stepped back, out of the kender's way.
"If you remember how you came by the necklace, please tell us," whispered the smooth voice as the kender walked past him.
When Earwig turned to reply, he saw, to his amazement, that the men were gone.
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Sitting alone, Raistlin was seized with a coughing fit. His breath refused to enter his lungs. He felt himself begin to lose consciousness. His head swayed slightly and he looked down into his cup, where he saw the remainder of his medicine, the leaves sticking to the bottom. Reaching out with a skeletal hand, he clutched at the passing barmaid.
"Hot water!" he gasped.
Maggie stared at the hand clasping her apron, the hand colored gold and as thin as death.
"Are you ill, sir? Can I help?"
"Water!" Raistlin snarled.
The woman, half-afraid, rushed to fill the order.