"01 - Shadowdale - Richard Awlinson 2.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Avatar Trilogy)

But then they were before the Hungry Man, and Kelemvor was ushering the girl inside. It was a quiet time of the day, and few patrons had arrived for highsunfeast. Those who were foolish enough to stare at Kelemvor and the girl were given a look that froze the blood in their veins and caused them to look away instantly.

"A bit young for your tastes, Kel," a familiar voice said. "But I suspect you have honorable intentions."

Coming from anyone else the remark would have brought violence, but coming from the elderly woman who now approached, it caused a thin smile to etch its way across Kelemvor's lips. "I fear the waif may collapse at any second."

The woman, Zehla, touched Kelemvor on the shoulder and looked at the girl. "A scrawny thing indeed," she said. "I have just the thing to put some meat back on those paltry bones. A moment and all will be ready."

Caitlan Moonsong watched as the old woman left, then looked back to Kelemvor. The fighter's attentions seemed to have drifted once more to the thoughts that had been troubling him. Caitlan knew it was important that she choose her champion well, and so she dug into her pocket and removed a blood-red gem she had been saving. She hid the gem in the palm of her hand as she reached over and covered Kelemvor's hand with hers. There was a flash of pure red light and Caitlan felt the gem cut into her flesh at the same moment it scratched the hand of the fighter.

Kelemvor leaped up from the table, drawing back and away from the girl. His sword had left its scabbard and was poised over his head when the voice of Zehla rang out.

"Kelemvor, stay your hand! She means you no harm!" The old woman stood a few tables away, Caitlan's meal in her hands.

"Your past is open to me," Caitlan said softly, and Kelemvor looked down at the girl, shocked from his rage by her words. Caitlan held the glowing red stone in her open palms, and she spoke as if she had been possessed. Slowly Kelemvor lowered his sword. "You were on a mission filled with endless days and nights of waiting and deception. Myrmeen Lhal, ruler of Arabel, feared that a traitor lay in her midst. She assigned Evon Stralana, the minister of defense, the task of soliciting mercenaries to infiltrate the city's guard and attempt to ferret out the traitor."

Zehla set the tray down before Caitlan, but the girl didn't even glance at the food. It was as if her voice had been consumed by the words she'd spoken.

"What sorcery is this?" Kelemvor said to Zehla.

"I don't know," the old woman said.

"Then why did you stop me?" Kelemvor said, worried that the girl might still prove to be a danger.

Zehla's brow wrinkled. "In case you have forgotten, blood has never been spilled in my establishment. While I'm alive, it never will be. Besides, she's just a child."

Kelemvor frowned and listened as Caitlan spoke again.

"The minister of defense approached you and a man named Cyric. You were newly arrived in town and the sole survivors of a failed attempt to retrieve an artifact known as the Ring of Winter. The traitor was feared to be in the employ of those plotting the economic collapse of Arabel through the sabotage of trade routes, and the overall discrediting of Arabel as a vital city in the Realms.

"With the help of Cyric and one other, you found the traitor, but he made good his escape and now the city is blanketed in fear and distrust. For this you blame yourself. Now you toil as a common guardsman, allowing your talent for adventure to languish unfulfilled."

The stone ceased to glow, and it now looked like a common garden stone. Caitlan caught her breath.

Kelemvor thought of the ice creature that stood guard over the Ring of Winter. He did nothing as the creature literally froze the blood of his companions, their screams ending abruptly as ice filled their throats. Their deaths had purchased the time Kelemvor and Cyric needed to escape. It had been Kelemvor who had first learned of the ring, and organized the party to retrieve the object, although he had deferred leadership to another.

"My 'talent' for adventure," Kelemvor said with contempt. "Men have died because of my so-called talent. Good men."

"Men die every day, Kelemvor. Is it not preferable to die with your pockets lined with gold Ч or at least in that pursuit?"

Kelemvor leaned back in his chair. "You are a magic-user? This is how you see into my innermost thoughts?"

Caitlan shook her head." I am no magic-user. This stone. . . this gem was a gift. It was the only bit of magic I possessed. Now it is spent. I am defenseless and at your mercy, good Kelemvor. I apologize for my actions, but I had to know that you were an honorable man."

The fighter replaced his sword and took his seat. "Your food is getting cold," he said.

Caitlan ignored the food, although her hunger was apparent. "I am here to make you an offer, Kelemvor. An offer of adventure and danger, of riches beyond belief and excitement such as you have craved these many weeks. Would you like to hear what I propose?"

"What else do you know about me?" Kelemvor said. "What else did your gem tell you?"