"02 - Tantras - Richard Awlinson 1.0.palmdoc.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Avatar Trilogy)

"Wait," Cyric said as the guard's hand reached for the heavy wooden door. "If anyone should ask, I am over six feet tall, with fiery red hair, the build of a wrestler, and a strange foreign accent."

"Of course you are," the guard murmured flatly. There wasn't a trace of emotion in his voice.

"Describe me," Cyric whispered as he gazed into the guard's face. The dalesman described the thief exactly as the hawk-nosed man had instructed. Satisfied that the effects of the dart were all that his informant had promised, Cyric gave the guard a few final commands and watched as he returned to his station.

The thief opened the door with care, fearful that the sound might alert the other guards. Cyric gazed into the confines of the black room and saw the object of his search lying on her side in the corner.

"Midnight," Cyric whispered as he entered the cell and went to work on the bonds of the dark-haired magic-user. He left the gag for last. "Keep it to a whisper," he cautioned.

As soon as the gag was removed, Midnight drew a deep breath, then looked at her fellow prisoner. The cleric sat with his knees drawn up before him, his forehead pressed against his knees to hide his face.

"Adon!" Midnight whispered. The mage rubbed her arms and legs, trying to massage some feeling back into them.

"Can you stand?" Cyric whispered as he got up and moved to the door. "We must leave quickly."

"We've got to take Adon," Midnight hissed urgently. She crawled toward the cleric.

"Your ordeal has left you contused," Cyric said. "Leave him."

Placing her hands on the cleric's shoulders, Midnight shook Adon, attempting to wake him. Shadowy, bloodshot eyes rose as Adon looked up, but the young cleric didn't seem to see his friends. He simply stared at the wall behind Midnight.

"He's useless!" Cyric hissed. "Besides, he betrayed you with his silence at the trial." The thief glanced nervously into the hallway, but no guards had noticed the open door yet.

"No!" Midnight declared, her voice cracking with pain and fear.

"Every moment we delay here increases our risk," Cyric snapped. He turned from the door, grabbed Midnight's arm, and tried to drag the magic-user to her feet.

"Get away from me," Midnight whimpered, but she was too weak to resist Cyric's less-than-gentle urgings.

"I came back for you!" Cyric hissed.

"You'll take us both, or I'll start screaming until even the gods know you're here!" Midnight warned. "He's sick. Can't you see that?" The mage ran her hand through Adon's tangled hair.

"I see only his cowardice," Cyric growled. "That and nothing more. But if his life truly matters to you, even after what he's done, I suppose I have no choice."

Midnight stumbled back as Cyric tore into Adon's bonds with an alarming fury. The tip of the thief's dagger drew a few drops of blood from Adon's wrists as Cyric hurriedly cut the last bit of rope and reached down to pull the cleric up by his filthy robes.

At the end of the corridor, the drugged guard waved stupidly as Cyric dragged Adon from the black room. Midnight stumbled along behind the thief.

Every step was a struggle for Midnight, and it became worse when they reached the darkened stairway. Cyric contemplated dropping Adon down the stairs, hoping that the cleric would break his neck in the fall. But Midnight walked close behind him, as if sensing the thief's intentions.

"Where's Kel?" Midnight gasped through sharp breaths as they struggled up the stairs.

Cyric hesitated as he decided which lie would serve his needs best. "He refused to join me. He said he 'couldn't interfere with justice.'"

"Justice!" Midnight spat out in amazement.

"I told him he was a blind fool," Cyric said, shrugging. The thief waited for a response from Midnight. When none came, he assumed the lie was enough to satisfy the mage- for now, at least.