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

Unable to decide the real source of the misfired spell, Midnight turned her attention to finding the Scarlet Spear.

Then, in the street ahead of her, Midnight saw a horse, and a man called out to her. It was Thurbrand, the mercenary who had challenged Kelemvor at the inn.

"Fair daffodil!"

"I am known as Midnight," she said as the man approached. There was no one else on the street. The name he called her brought a slight tinge of amusement to Midnight, despite the cries of her better nature to beware the smiling man before her.

"I am no one's 'fair daffodil.' "

"Then there is no justice in this world," Thurbrand said, his green eyes picking up the light from the brilliant moon overhead.

"What do you want, Dragon Eyes?"

"Ah, I see Kelemvor's tender mercies have not left you unscarred," Thurbrand said softly. "He has that effect on many who wish to embrace his friendship. He has suffered much, Lady Midnight, and he inflicts that suffering on all those around him."

"Just 'Midnight,' " the magic-user said as she felt a sudden chill and pulled her cloak tight about her shoulders.

Thurbrand smiled and brushed a strand of hair that had revealed a bare spot back in place. "Come, I offer a place to rest for the night, and company who will appreciate one as lovely and capable as yourself."

Thurbrand turned and walked in the direction of his horse. "Perhaps we can discuss business as well."

Either Midnight's eyes deceived her, or the horse Thurbrand walked toward was adorned with a blood-red mane; a horse that was the very image of the one she had been separated from outside the city of Arabel. Heart racing, Midnight watched as Thurbrand stopped and looked over his shoulder. Midnight sauntered to his side, smiling as a plan began to form in her mind. Perhaps Thurbrand would be able to assist Midnight in proving to that overbearing fool Kelemvor that she was not a woman to he trifled with, although Thurbrand himself would not have cared for the direction her thoughts had taken.

"More specifically, the business that scoundrel Kelemvor did not have the sense to employ you for. There is much I would like to know."

Midnight frowned and cast a forget spell upon Thurbrand. There was a soft, blue-white flash at the base of his skull and Thurbrand cocked his head in annoyance, swatting at the back of his neck. "Damn bugs," he said sharply. "Now, what were we talking about?"

"I don't remember."

"Strange," Thurbrand said as he mounted the ebony stallion, then looked to Midnight who held out her hand. Midnight leaped, sinking her boot into the fighter's hand, almost dragging him off the mount as she settled comfortably on it herself.

"Strange?" she said.

"I can't seem to remember either." Thurbrand shrugged. "I suppose it was of no matter."

"Aye," Midnight said, and she gave the mount a gentle kick. Then she held on tightly as the riders suddenly found themselves in motion, racing through the night. "I suppose you're right. Lovely mount you've got."

"Purchased him just last week. Somewhat unruly, but fearless in battle."

Midnight grinned and patted the flank of the horse. "Takes after his master, I would guess."

Thurbrand laughed and rested his gloved hand on Midnight's bare knee, then removed it as the horse shot forward, forcing him to hold the horse's reins or risk falling.

Midnight wondered if she knew a spell to make the man keep his paws to himself, and his head on his own pillow in the dead of night. In truth, it didn't matter. If Midnight chose not to entertain company this evening and if her magic failed her, she still had her knife.

A knife always worked.

Midnight smiled to herself and relaxed slightly. Kelemvor wouldn't turn her away after he saw what she was going to do to Thurbrand.