"Elrod, P N - I, Strahd 2 - War Against Azalin e-txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

There were unbound pages as well. The paper was very thin and fine, as was the
nib of the pen used, but, the handwriting was the same. It was as though the
writer had put those in after the binding, and at first glance they did seem to
be addendums to the main text. Van Richten read aloud the first of them from the
very front of the book:

I , Strahd of Barovia, well aware that certain events of my reign have been
erroneously recorded as "history," do hearby set down an exact record concerning
my war with Azalin of Darkon. Many versions of what happened exist, and all are
inaccurate over one point or another, but this is the one true accounting ofЕ

He stopped and swallowed, having gone very pale.
"What is it, Doctor?" she demanded, shaken at his reaction. He was always so
cheerful and confident, and to see him like this was most alarming.
He took command of himself and tapped a finger lightly against the page. There
was an earnest light in his eyes. "I should like to hear your professional
opinion about this book's characteristics."
Slightly taken aback, she nonetheless rose to the occasion. "Well, for a start,
the penmanship looks to be from a period some four centuries past, yet I would
judge the paper to be not more than a hundred and fifty years old."
"Yes, yes, please go on."
She held the book up in such a way as to let light shine behind a single page.
"There, see that? I'm right on the dating. It's a Barovian paper maker's
watermark from that time."
"How would you account for the combination of these elements?"
"It seems obvious that someone's taken an old Barovian diary and slapped a new
cover on it about fifty years ago. But the puzzle is how anyone who learned to
write some four centuries past was able to put that writing on such relatively
new paper."
"You've an idea, though?"
"A disappointing one, sir."
"Which isЧ?"
"This book is a forgery."
Instead of disappointed, Van Richten looked, if anything, quite taken with the
prospect. He was all but quivering, like a hunting dog catching a scent. "A
forgery?"
"So it would seem, but why would anyone bother to forge a diary? And do such a
clumsy job of it? Even an apprentice bookseller would be able to spot this one."
"Perhaps it was meant to draw attention," he murmured.
"But whose attention?"
"Who, indeed?"
She shot him an annoyed look, disliking it when people answered a question with
a question, then studied the pages again. "The language is an old one, I find
the phrasing rather hard to follow. Whoever did the forging made a thorough job
of it, but they botched it on the age of the paper."
"Perhaps," he said, sounding abstracted again.
"What do you know that I don't?" she demanded.
"Um?" He broke away from reading the text and blinked at her.
"You know something about this book, don't you?"
"Not really, but I should very much like to find out more. Might I borrow it for