"R A Salvatore - Icewind Dale Trilogy 1 - Crystal Shard, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Salvatore R. A)

Icewind Dale that travelers here never forgot. The first was the endless
moaning of the wind, as though the land itself was continuously groaning in
torment. And the second was the emptiness of the dale, mile after mile of
gray and brown horizon lines.
The caravan's destination marked the only varying features in all the
dale-ten small towns positioned around the three lakes of the region, under
the shadow of the only mountain, Kelvin's Cairn. Like everyone else who
came to this harsh land, the wizards sought Ten-Towns' scrimshaw, the fine
ivory carvings made from the headbones of the knucklehead trout which swam
in the waters of the lakes.
Some of the wizards, though, had even more devious gains in mind.

* * * * *

The man marvelled at how easily the slender dagger slipped through the
folds in the older man's robe and then cut deeper into the wrinkled flesh.
Morkai the Red turned on his apprentice, his eyes locked into a widened,
amazed set at the betrayal by the man he had raised as his own son for a
quarter of a century.
Akar Kessell let go of the dagger and backed away from his master,
horrified that the mortally wounded man was still standing. He ran out of
distance for his retreat, stumbling into the rear wall of the small cabin
the wizards of Luskan had been given as temporary quarters by the host city
of Easthaven. Kessell trembled visibly, pondering the grizzly consequences
he would face in light of the growing possibility that the magical
expertise of the old mage had found a way to defeat even death itself.
What terrible fate would his mighty mentor impose upon him for his
betrayal? What magical torments could a true and powerful wizard such as
Morkai conjure that would outdo the most agonizing of the tortures common
throughout the land?
The old man held his gaze firmly on Akar Kessell, even as the last light
began to fade from his dying eyes. He didn't ask why, he didn't even
outwardly question Kessell about the possible motives. The gain of power
was involved somewhere; he knew - that was always the case in such
betrayals. What confused him was the instrument, not the motive. Kessell?
How could Kessell, the bumbling apprentice whose stuttering lips could
barely call out the simplest of cantrips, possibly hope to profit from the
death of the only man who had ever shown him more than basic, polite
consideration?
Morkai the Red fell dead. It was one of the few questions he had never
found the answer to.
Kessell remained against the wall, needing its tangible support, and
continued to shake for long minutes. Gradually, the confidence that had put
him in this dangerous position began to grow again within him. He was the
boss now-Eldeluc, Dendybar the Mottled, and the other wizards who had made
the trip had said so. With his master gone, he, Akar Kessell, would be
rightfully awarded his own meditation chamber and alchemy lab in the
Hosttower of the Arcane in Luskan.
Eldeluc, Dendybar the Mottled, and the others had said so.