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

"Get up," Kelemvor said simply.

"You need me," Midnight said incredulously as she reluctantly complied.

"Aye," Kelemvor said. "Just as I need my throat cut in my sleep. Begone!"

Suddenly Caitlan stood up, her mouth moving as if she were about to cry out. She clutched at her throat and fell across the table.

Kelemvor looked down at the girl with panic in his eyes. "My reward," he whispered. When he looked up, he realized the others were waiting for him to tell them what to do. "Adon!" Kelemvor said harshly. "Don't just stand there. You're a cleric. See what ails the child and heal her!"

Adon shook his head and held his hands open at his sides. "I cannot. With the gods in the Realms, our spells do not function unless we're near them. Surely you know this."

Kelemvor swore with disgust when he saw that Caitlan was shivering, despite the warmth of the room. "Then get a blanket or something to keep her warm."

Midnight moved forward. "My cloak," she said, and reached for the clasp by her throat.

Kelemvor looked up sharply. "You are not a part of this."

A serving girl appeared with a spare tablecloth. "I overheard," she said as she helped Kelemvor wrap the girl in the tablecloth, then backed away as the fighter hefted the unconscious girl in his arms.

Kelemvor looked into the faces of his companions. "Go with the magic-user or come with me," he said simply. Adon and Cyric looked at one another, then at Kelemvor. They didn't even look at Midnight.

"As you wish," the magic-user said coldly. Kelemvor and his companions filed past her, and she watched as Adon held open the door for the others, then made his own exit.

Midnight turned, almost colliding with a serving girl whose slight form was capped with an uneasy smile. The girl played nervously with her apron. "Say your peace," Midnight snapped.

"Your bill, milady."

Midnight looked over to her original table, where the meal she had ordered had long since became cold. It hardly mattered. She had lost her appetite. Midnight followed the girl to the bar and paid the innkeeper.

"Are there any rooms available?" Midnight said.

The innkeeper handed Midnight her change. "No, milady. We are full up. Perhaps the Scarlet Spear? It is nearby. . ."

Midnight took the directions from the man and gave him a gold piece for his trouble. Before the man could even put words to his surprise at such an extravagant tip, Midnight was already halfway to the door.

As Midnight passed through the doors of the inn and greeted the biting chill of the thin night air, a dark figure rose up from a purposefully neglected table. There was little, it seemed, a fistful of gold could not purchase in Arabel Ч the right to sit undisturbed in a poorly lit corner of an inn the very least of what was available. The blackened pits of the stranger's eyes seemed aflame with images of the adventurers. He grinned from ear to ear, then merged with the shadows and was gone before anyone was aware he had ever arrived.



Caitlan was slung over Kelemvor's horse as he rode through the night, Cyric and Adon riding close behind. Soon, they arrived at the Hungry Man Inn, and Cyric helped Kelemvor as he lowered the girl to Adon's waiting arms. The fighter leaped from his mount and ran for the door to the inn without bothering to tether his horse.

"Should we follow?" Adon said.

"Give him a moment," Cyric said, and soon Kelemvor emerged from the inn, barking orders to take the girl around back.

They were met at the rear entrance by an old woman who carried a lantern and gestured frantically for them to get inside. Kelemvor seemed subdued in the woman's presence.

"Zehla, this is Cyric, a fellow guardsman, and Adon of Sune," Kelemvor said.