"Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar 2 - Silverthorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

that nonsense, snake. Your hot-land magic will only cant
my reading.'
The serpent man was restrained by 'a gentle touch and
smile from the centre figure, who nodded at the witch.
In crroaking tones, her throat dry with fear, the witch
said, 'Say you then truly: What would you know?' She
studied the hissing silver coin, covered now in bubbling
green slime.
is it time? Shall I do now that which was ordained?'
A bright green flame sprang from the coin and danced.
The witch followed its movement closely, her eyes seeing
something within the flame none but she could divine.
After a while she said, "The Bloodstones form the Cross
of Fire. That which you are, you are. That which you are
born to do, . . . do!' the last word was a half-gasp.
Something in the witch's expression was unexpected,
for the moredhel said, 'What else, crone?'
"you stand not unopposed, for there is one who is your
bane. You stand not alone, for behind you . . . I do not
understand.' Her voice was weak, faint.
'What?' The moredhel showed no smile this time.
"Something . . . something vast, something distant
something evil.'
The moredhel paused to consider, turning to the ser-
pent man, he spoke softly yet commandingly. "Go then,
Cathos. Employ your arcane skills and discover where

this seat of weakness lies. Give a name to our enemy.
Find him.'
The serpent man bowed awkwardly and shambled out
of the cave. The moredhel turned to his mute companion
and said, "Raise the standards, my general, and gather
the loyal clans upon the plains of Isbandia, beneath the
towers of Bar-Sargoth. Raise highest that standard I have
chosen for my own, and let all know we begin that which
was ordained. You shall be my battlemaster, Murad, and
all shall know you stand highest among my servants.
Glory and greatness now await.
'Then, when the mad snake has identified our quarry,
lead forth the Black Slayers. Let those whose souls are
mine serve us by seeking out our enemy. Find him!
Destroy him! Go!'
The mute nodded once and left the cave. The moredhel
with the sign on his chest faced the witch. "Then, human
refuse, do you know what dark powers move?'
"Aye, messenger of destruction, I know. By the Dark

Lady, I know.'
He laughed, a cold humourless sound. 'I wear the sign,'
he said, pointing to the purple birthmark upon his chest,