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

Midnight looked at the girl, shocked to find the truth in her eyes. The magic-user looked back to the window and hung her head, her waist-length raven-black hair falling forward, obscuring her face. "What is this place?" Midnight said at last.

"This is our home. My father and I live here, milady, and you are our guest."

Midnight sighed. At least she didn't seem to be in any danger. "I am Midnight of Deepingdale. I woke to find myself dressed as a fine lady, yet I am merely a traveler, and I do not remember coming to your home," Midnight said. "What is your name?"

"Annalee!" a voice cried from behind Midnight. The girl shuddered and drew into herself as she turned to the doorway, where stood a tall, wiry man with thin brown locks and a rough growth of beard. He was dressed in what appeared to be a soft brown frock, belted with thick leather. Gold lace adorned the open folds of his collar and the wide expanses of his cuffs.

Annalee floated past Midnight and left the room, the scent of some exotic perfume gracing the air with her sudden passing.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me what this place is and how I came to be here. All I remember is the wicked storm we suffered last night," Midnight said.

The man's eyes shot open wide and his hands flew to his mouth; he could not mask his surprise.

"Oh, how extraordinary," he said as he sank to the edge of the bed. "What is your name, beautiful wayfarer?"

Midnight suddenly wished she understood the proper etiquette to accept a compliment gracefully. Because she did not, she merely looked away and studied the floor as she dutifully recited her name and place of origin.

"And your name?" Midnight said. The weakness she had felt earlier was returning, and she was forced to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I am Brehnan Mueller. I am a widower, as you might have guessed. My daughter and I live in this cottage, here in the forest to the west of Calanter's Way." Brehnan looked about the room with sadness in his eyes. "My wife became ill. She was brought to this, our guest room, where she died. You were the very first person to lay upon this bed in almost a decade."

"How did I get here?"

"First, how do you feel?" Brehnan said.

"Sore. Tired. Almost. . . dazed."

Brehnan nodded. "You say there was a storm last night?"

"Aye."

"A great storm did shake the Realms," Brehnan said. "Meteors split the sky and laid waste to temples all across the Realms. Did you know this?"

Midnight shook her head. "I knew of the storm, but not the destruction."

The magic-user felt the skin of her face grow tight. She looked toward the window once more. Suddenly the images before her came sharply into focus. "But the ground is dry. There are no traces of such a storm."

"The storm was two weeks ago, Midnight. Annalee's prize stallion had become frightened by the storm, and bolted. I caught up with the horse past the woods, near the road, and it was there I found you, your skin glowing with a luminescence that all but blinded me. Your hands clutched at the pendant that hung from your neck. Even when I brought you here, it was all I could do to pry your fingers from the object. And I could not remove the pendant.

"At first I worried that the bed we sit upon now would be your final place of rest, but gradually your strength returned, and I could sense the process of healing as it transpired, day by day. Now you are well."

"Why did you help me?" Midnight said, absently. The weakness she felt was passing, but she still felt dizzy.

"I am a cleric of Tymora, Goddess of Luck. I have seen miracles. Miracles such as the one that surely touched you, fair lady."

Midnight turned to look at the cleric, hardly prepared for his next words, or for the fervor with which his words were delivered.

"The gods walk the Realms, dear Midnight! Tymora herself can be seen between highsunfeast and eveningfeast in fair Arabel. Of course, there is a slight donation to the church that must be made for the privilege. Still, isn't the sight of a god worth a few gold pieces? And her temple must be rebuilt, you see."