"03 - The Stricken Field 1.0." - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

The imperor nodded, as if that were a satisfying piece of confirmation. "Mm? But
do we believe him, eh? Well, no matter. Time will tell."
With difficulty, Umpily heaved himself to his feet. He had been cut almost in
half by his belt and it was wonderful to breathe again.
Shandie threw an arm around his shoulders. "I shall be the first imperor to rule
all the world! And you are my first and truest friend!"
Umpily was blinded by tears. He had never known Shandie to display such
emotion-but justifiably, of course! No more wars? Universal justice and
prosperity! It was a staggering, awe-inspiring concept.
"Sire, Sire! I have been a fool!"
"But no real harm done. You have missed a few good meals, I expect."
"Worse! I have been tattling all this time to the imposter!" Hurriedly he pulled
the little roll from his pocket. "This is a magic scroll, Sire. The imposter has
its companion--"
Shandie snatched the parchment and opened it. His face darkened. "He limns a
fair version of my hand, doesn't he?"
Umpily had often found his ability to read upside down to be a useful knack. In
the brief moment before Shandie rolled up the scroll again, he had made out the
message: I am grateful. The Good be with you.
Insolence! That the evil charlatan should have the gall to invoke the Good! The
scroll always managed a superb forgery of Shandie's handwriting, of course.
"I shall hang on to this," Shandie said thoughtfully. "Have you any idea where
we might find him?"
"None, Sire. I left them all on the boat. I suspected that they were heading for
the north shore."
"And long since departed elsewhere! Well, no matter. They can cause little
trouble ... Can they? I wonder what they think they can accomplish. Did you hear
any of their vile plotting?"
"Oh, yes! They talk of setting up a new protocol."
"A what?" Shandie almost never showed his feelings, but now he turned quite pale
with shock.
"A new protocol, Sire! They hope to bribe all the, er, unattached sorcerers in
the world to rally to their cause by promising a new order."
The imperor spun around and stared for a long moment at that ominous blue chair.
He licked his lips. "New order? Was this the faun's idea?"
"Yes, sir."
"Of course! And what exactly is he promising?" Umpily tried to remember all the
crazy ideas that had been tossed around on the ferryboat. "They will outlaw
votarism, Sire. No sorcerer, even a warden, will be allowed to bind another to
his will. They hope to establish sorcery as a force for good in the world . . ."
Shandie laughed, rather shrilly. "Well, I wish them luck! The attempt should
keep them out of any real mischief, and we shall catch them soon enough. I feel
sorry for my poor cousin. When we catch him, he will be restored to his wits and
given full pardon. The Four will meet their just deserts. And that faun . . ."
He stared again at the blue chair. He did not complete the thought, but Umpily
shivered.
"It is good to have you back in our councils, old friend," the imperor said. "I
have convinced you? No qualms now?"
"None, Sire! None at all." Oh, what a fool he had been to trust a dwarf and a
faun!