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

The old woman shook her head. "Time enough for pleasantries later. Follow me."

Moments later they stood by Zehla's side, in a room she had always reserved for emergencies, watching the fever-plagued motions of Caitlan Moonsong. As beads of sweat formed on the girl's brow, Zehla wiped her forehead with a wet towel.

"She's ill, possibly dying, Kel," Zehla said, her wizened features and the lines of her face speaking volumes on her authority on pain and suffering.

Kelemvor realized Caitlan had become conscious: she was trying to say something. He bent low that he might hear her words.

"Save her." The girl's voice was weak and ragged. "Save my mistress."

"Rest," Kelemvor said simply, brushing the girl's hair from her eyes. Then Caitlan suddenly grabbed his massive hand with an iron grip that made the fighter flinch.

"She can cure you," Caitlan said, then her muscles relaxed as she sank back on the bed.

"Zehla!" Kelemvor cried, but the old woman was already there. Kelemvor looked to the others. If they heard the girl's promise, they gave no sign. His secret was safe.

"She's alive," Zehla pronounced. "For now."

The old woman turned to Cyric and Adon, and asked them to leave the room so that she and Kelemvor might speak privately. Both men looked to Kelemvor for confirmation, but he was staring down at the girl, lost in his own concerns. They left without further prompting, and Zehla closed the door behind them.

"My reward," Kelemvor said, gesturing at the girl. "If she dies, I will be cheated of my reward."

Zehla moved toward him. "Is that your only concern?"

Kelemvor looked away from the girl and turned his back on the old woman.

"Riches can be counted in more than gold, good Kel.

There are people who help others simply for the pleasure it gives them to do so, and the knowledge that they have made a difference in the world. Hired arms are cheap and plentiful in comparison. You would do well to think on this."

"You think I don't know that? I think of that every day! But, remember, I'm no wide-eyed youth, no child for you to lecture. I have no choice but to follow the path that's been laid out for me."

Zehla went to him, touching his arm. "But why, Kel? Can you not tell me why?"

Kelemvor's shoulders fell as the anger that had raced through him evaporated. "I cannot."

Zehla shook her head and walked past the fighter. She then moved a chair out of the way, and pulled at a floorboard that came away in her hands without effort, revealing a small box that had been hidden in the tiny space. Zehla pulled out the box, then used the bed as support as she dragged herself to her feet.

"Help me," Zehla said as she set the box beside Caitlan. Kelemvor hesitated. Zehla's features turned cold. "Come, we must protect your investment."

Kelemvor moved forward, watching as Zehla opened the box and a series of multi-colored flasks were exposed. "Healing potions," Kelemvor said.

"Of course. That's why you came here, instead of taking her to one of the temples, isn't it?"

"Aye," Kelemvor said. "Clerical magic can't be trusted. I told Adon to cure her earlier, without thinking, as if it were still the time before Arrival. Of course, he couldn't. I feared the worshipers of Tymora would turn her away, as she was not one of their own, or force us to bring her back in the morning. By then she might have died."

"Having her drink this might be just as deadly as not treating her at all," Zehla said as she held up a vial. "All magic is unstable."

Kelemvor sighed and looked down at Caitlan, who was still shivering. "But we really have no choice, do we?"