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

At the top of the steps, Cyric saw the soft orange glow of torchlight from the hallway and wondered if he should warn Midnight about the dangers of the randomly solidifying doors. He decided against it and secretly hoped that the wall would reappear just as he pushed Adon through.

Shoving the cleric through the portal first, Cyric quickly hurried through the narrow passage. "Make haste," he hissed into the darkness. Midnight dragged herself through the doorway and stumbled along behind the thief.

At the end of the corridor, Cyric looked out through a series of spy holes to verify that the boatyard was still deserted. Midnight helped to support Adon as Cyric unlocked the door with the key he had taken from Forester's body.

The boatyard was quiet. Only the sounds of the gently lap ping waves from the Ashaba and the conspiratorial creak of wooden boats rubbing against the dock helped to cover the plodding footsteps of the escapees as they followed Cyric. A host of blue-white torches illuminated the arched wooden ceilings of the boathouse and the vast array of craft docked nearby.

Making his way toward a twenty-foot skiff at the south end of the yard, Cyric imagined the boathouse in flames. The chaos such an event would create was exactly the distraction they needed to ensure their safe escape. With the destruction of Mourngrym's small fleet, the repairs to the Ashaba bridge would be stalled and any pursuit of the escapees would be severely restricted.

Much to Cyric's regret, however, they didn't have time for such an elaborate operation.

Cyric stood before the boat and looked around quickly. "Can you spellcast, Midnight? We might need a diversion."

Midnight shook her head from side to side. "I would need to study first, and my spellbook was left in Elminster's Tower."

Cyric was about to speak when he heard the soft padding of footsteps. Someone was leaping from boat to boat, carefully avoiding the dock where his footfalls would give him away. "What do you think of this boat?" Cyric said as he made an exaggerated motion with his right hand, hoping to draw attention away from the quicksilver motion of his left hand as he drew out one of his daggers. Suddenly the thief whirled on the intruder.

Midnight grabbed Cyric's hand before the dagger could fly. One of the torches on the tower flared, and the heroes found themselves gazing into the searing green eyes of Elminster's scribe, Lhaeo. Midnight softly breathed his name, and the brown-haired young man gracefully leaped from the bow of a nearby boat to the dock. A huge sack was slung over the scribe's shoulder, but he carried it without effort. An elegant black cloak hung rather loosely around his shoulders.

"What do you want here?" Cyric hissed, suspicion burning in his eyes. The thief held his dagger pointed toward Elminster's servant.

"I'm not about to give you away, if that's what you mean," Lhaeo whispered, then carefully set his canvas bag down on the dock. "Do you have any idea how annoyed Elminster will be if the first thing he learns upon returning home is that you've been executed for his murder?"

"But we saw Elminster die, Lhaeo," Midnight said, hanging her head. "He was drawn into that horrible rift." Adon winced slightly, but the cleric didn't speak. He just stared at the boat, slowly bobbing in the water.

Lhaeo rubbed his chin. "I don't believe it," the scribe said as he opened his sack. "Elminster's disappeared before- many times, in fact. I would know . . . somehow ... if he were truly gone."

"If you're not going to stop us, then what do you want?" Cyric growled quietly. He continued to point his knife toward the scribe. "If you haven't noticed, we're in a bit of a hurry."

Lhaeo frowned and pushed Cyric's dagger aside as he approached Midnight. "I'm here to help you. It's the least I can do after the trial."

The scribe gestured for Midnight to look into the sack. "Your spellbook is here, along with some provisions for your journey." Lhaeo reached into the bag and withdrew a beautiful orb that glowed with an amber light. Strange runes had been wrought in the surface of the glass, and a golden base, marked with intricate designs that were covered with fine, sparkling diamond dust, had been added since the last time Midnight had seen the orb in Elminster's study.

"Do you remember this?" Lhaeo said as he held the sphere toward Midnight. A slight smile played across the scribe's face.

"Aye," Midnight said as she reached out to stroke the glowing sphere. "The globe was made to shatter if any powerful magical object comes within its range."

"This should help you find the Tablets of Fate," Lhaeo said quietly and put the globe back into the bag.

Midnight and Cyric looked shocked, but Lhaeo continued to smile. "There is little Elminster keeps hidden from me. He even told me that the first tablet is in Tantras."

"We have to go," Cyric hissed to Midnight. "You can go through your bag of gifts later." The thief grabbed Adon and moved toward the boat.

"One last thing," the scribe whispered as he removed another, smaller bag from his shoulder and handed it to the magic-user. She opened it and saw a metal vial.

"The mists of rapture," Lhaeo said. "Perfect for disabling a large group of guardsmen without causing lasting harm." Cyric pushed Adon into the boat and started to untie the skiff's moorings.

"You were going to try to rescue us yourself!" Midnight gasped. Adon looked up from the boat, and for an instant, his gaze seemed to focus on the scribe.