"01 - Canticle - R A Salvatore 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cleric Quintet)

Cadderly entered the great hall at about the same time, slipping quietly through the high oaken double doors and moving to the side, behind a large arch support.

"Aerial buttress," he couldn't help but mutter, shaking his head in dismay at the bulky pillar. He realized then that he had not entered unnoticed. Kierkan Rufo smiled at him from the shadows of the next nearest arch.

Cadderly knew that the conniving Rufo had waited for him, seeking new fuel for Headmaster Avery's ire, and he knew that Avery would not excuse his tardiness. Cadderly pretended not to care, not wanting to give Rufo the satisfaction. He pointedly looked away and pulled out his spindle-disks, an archaic weapon used by ancient halfling tribesmen of southern Luiren. The device consisted of two circular rock crystal disks, each a finger's breadth wide and a finger's length in diameter, joined in their centers by a small bar on which was wrapped a string. Cadderly had discovered the weapon in an obscure tome and had actually improved on the design, using a metal connecting bar with a small hole through which the string could be threaded and knotted rather than tied.

Cadderly slipped his finger through the loop on the string's loose end. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the spindle-disks rolling down the length of the string, then brought them spinning back to his hand with a slight jerk of his finger.

Cadderly sneaked a look out of the comer of his eye. Knowing that he had Rufo's attention, he sent the disks down again, quickly looped the string over the fingers of his free hand to form a triangle, and held the still-spinning disks in the middle, rocking them back and forth like a baby's cradle. Rufo was leaning forward now, mesmerized by the game, and Cadderly didn't miss the opportunity.

He released the string from his cradling hand, gathering the spindle-disks too suddenly for the eye to follow, then flicked them out straight at his rival. The string brought the flying device back to Cadderly's hand before it got halfway to Rufo, but the startled man stumbled backward and toppled. Cadderly congratulated himself for his timing, for Rufo's noisy descent coincided with the most dramatic pause in Brother Chaunticleer's song.

"Ssshhh!" came the angry hisses from every direction, and Cadderly's was not the least among them. It seemed that Headmaster Avery would have two students to discipline that night.



To Know Your Allies



The meeting chamber at Castle Trinity was quite different from the great and ornate hall of the Edificant Library. Its ceiling was low and its door squat and barred and heavily guarded. A single triangular table dominated the room, with three chairs on each side, one group for the wizards, one for the fighters, and one for the clerics.

Scan the room, Druzil suggested telepathically to Aballister, who was in the room. The imp surveyed through the wizard's eyes, using their telepathic link to view whatever Aballister was looking at. Aballister did as he was bidden, moving his gaze around the triangular table, first to Ragnor and the other two fighters, then to Barjin and his two cleric companions.

Druzil broke the mental connection suddenly and hissed a wicked laugh, knowing that he had left Aballister in complete confusion. He could feel the wizard trying to reestablish the mental link, could hear Aballister's thoughts calling to him.

But Aballister was not in command of their telepathy; the imp had used this mental form of communication for more decades than Aballister had been alive and it was he who decided when and where he and the wizard would link. For now, Druzil had no reason to continue contact; he had seen all that he needed to see. Barjin was in the meeting hall and would be busy there for some time.

Druzil found his center of magic, his otherworldly essence, which allowed him to transcend the physical rules governing creatures of this host plane. A few seconds later, the imp faded from sight, becoming transparent, then he was off, flapping down the hallways to a wing of Castle Trinity to which he rarely traveled.

It was risky business, Druzil knew, but if the chaos curse was to be in the priest's hands, then Druzil needed to know more about him.

Druzil knew that Barjin's door would be locked and heavily warded against intrusion, but he considered that a minor problem with one of Barjin's bodyguards standing rigid in the hall just outside it. Druzil entered the man's thoughts just long enough to plant a suggestion, a magical request.

"There is an intruder in Barjin's room," came Druzil's silent beckon.

The guard glanced about nervously for a moment, as if seeking the source of the call. He stared long at Barjin's door-looking right through the invisible imp-then hastily fumbled with some keys, spoke a command word to prevent the warding glyphs from exploding, and entered.

Druzil quietly mouthed the same command word and walked in behind.

After, a few minutes of inspecting the apparently empty room, the guard shook his head and left, locking the door behind him.

Druzil snickered at how easily some humans could be controlled. The imp didn't have the time or inclination to gloat, though, not with all of the mysterious Barjin's secrets open for his inspection. The room was ordinary enough for one of Barjin's stature. A large canopy bed dominated the wall opposite the door, with a night table beside it. Druzil rubbed his hands together eagerly as he headed for the table. Atop it, next to the lamp, was a black-bound book and, next to that, several quills and an ink-well.

"How thoughtful of you to keep a journal," Druzil rasped, carefully opening the work. He read through the first entries, dated two years earlier. They were mostly lamentations by Barjin, accounts of his exploits in the northern kingdoms of Vaasa, Damara, and Narfell, to the north. Druzil's already considerable respect for the priest grew as he devoured the words. Barjin once had commanded an army and had served a powerful master-he gave no direct references to the man, if it was a man-not as a cleric, but as a wizard!

Druzil paused to consider this revelation, then hissed and read on. Although formidable, Barjin admitted that he had not been the most powerful of the wizards in his master's service-again a vague reference to the mysterious master, giving Druzil the impression that perhaps Barjin, even years later, feared to speak the creature's name aloud or write it down. Barjin's rise to power had come later, when the army had taken on a religious zeal and his master apparently had assumed godlike proportions.

Druzil couldn't contain a snicker at the striking parallels between the priest's ascent and the chaos curse's transformation into a goddess's direct agent.