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

The interplanar gate was closed now; Aballister had powders that could open and shut it as readily as if he were turning a knob. The powders sat in small, carefully marked pouches, half for opening, half for closing, lined up alternately on a nearby table. Only Druzil knew about them besides Aballister, and the imp had never gone against the wizard's demands and tampered with the gate. Druzil could be impertinent and was often I a tremendous nuisance, but he was reliable enough concerning important matters.

Aballister continued his scan and saw Us reflection in a mirror across the room. Once he had been a handsome man, with inquisitive eyes and a bright smile. The change had been dramatic. Aballister was hollowed and worn now, all the dabbling in dark magic, worshiping a demanding goddess, and controlling chaotic creatures such as Druzil having taken their toll. Many years before, the wizard had given up everything-his family and friends, and all the joys he once had held dear-in his hunger for knowledge and power, and that obsession had - only multiplied when he had met Talona.

More than once, though, both before and after that meeting, Aballister had wondered if it had been worth it. Druzil offered him the attainment of Percival lifelong quest, power beyond his grandest imaginings, but the reality hadn't lived up to Aballister's expectations. At this point in Percival wretched life, the power seemed as hollow as Us own face.

"But these ingredients!" Aballister went on, trying, perhaps hoping, that he could find a weakness in the imp's seemingly solid designs. "Eyes of an umber hulk? Blood of a druid? And what is the purpose of this, tentacles of a displacer beast?"

"Chaos curse," Druzil replied, as if the words alone shout dispell the wizard's doubts. "It is a mighty potion you plan to brew, my master." Druzil's toothy smile sent a shudder of revulsion along Aballister's backbone. The wizard had never be come overly comfortable around the cruel imp.

"Del quimera cas dempa," Druzil said through Percival long and pointy teeth. "A powerful potion indeed!" he translated falsely. In truth, Druzil had said, "Even considering your limitations," but Aballister didn't need to know that.

"Yes," Aballister muttered again, tapping a bony finger on the end of his hawkish nose. "I really must take the time to learn your language, my dear Druzil."

"Yes," Druzil echoed, wiggling his elongated ears. "lye quiesta pas tellemara," he said, which meant, "If you weren't so stupid." Druzil dropped into a low bow to cover his deceptions, but the act only convinced Aballister further that the imp was making fun of him.

"The expense of these ingredients has been considerable," Aballister said, getting back to the subject,

"And the brewing is not exact," added Druzil with obvious sarcasm. "And we could find, my master, a hundred more! problems if we searched, but the gains, I remind you. The gains! Your brotherhood is not so strong, not so. It shan't survive, I say! Not without the brew."

"God-stuff?" mused Aballister.

"Call it so," replied Druzil. "Since it was Talona who led you to it, that her designs be furthered, perhaps it truly is. A fitting title, for the sake of Barjin and his wretched priests. They will be more devout and attentive if they understand that they are fabricating a true agent of Talona, a power in itself to lavish their worship upon, and their devotion will help keep ore-faced Ragnor and his brutish warriors in line."

Aballister laughed aloud as he thought of the three clerics, the second order of the evil triumvirate, kneeling and praying before a simple magical device.

"Name it Tuanta Miancay, the Fatal Horror," Druzil offered, his snickers purely sarcastic. "Barjin will like that." Druzil contemplated the suggestion for a moment, then added, "No, not the Fatal Horror. Tuanta QUIRO Miancay, the Most Fatal Horror."

Aballister's laughter trebled, with just a hint of uneasiness in it. "Most Fatal Horror" was a tide associated with Talona's highest-ranking and most devout priests-Barjin, Castle Trinity's clerical leader, had not yet attained that honor, being referred to only as a Most Debilitating Holiness. That this chaos curse would outstrip him in tide would sting the arrogant cleric, and Aballister would enjoy that spectacle. Barjin and his band had been at the castle for only a year. The priest had traveled all the way from Damara, homeless and broken and with no god to сall his own since a new order of paladin kings had banished his vile deity back to the lower planes.

Like Aballister, Barjin claimed to have encountered the avatar of Talona and that it was I she who had shown him the way to Castle Trinity. Barjin's dynamism and powers were considerable, and his followers had carried uncounted treasures along with them on their journey. When they first had arrived, the ruling triumvirate, particularly Aballister, had welcomed them with open arms, drinking it grand that Talona had brought together so powerful a union, a marriage that would strengthen the castle and provide the resources to complete Druzil's recipe. Now, months later, Aballister had begun to foster reservations about the union, particularly about the priest. Barjin was a charismatic man, something frowned upon in an order dedicated to disease and poison. Many of Talona's priests scarred themselves or covered their skin with grotesque tattoos. Barjin had done none of that, had sacrificed nothing to his new goddess, but, because of his wealth and his uncanny persuasive powers, he quickly had risen to the leadership of the castle's clerics.

Aballister had allowed the ascent, thinking it Talona's will, and had gone out of his way to appease Barjin-in retrospect, he was not so certain of his choice. Now, however, he needed Barjin's support to hold Castle Trinity together, and Ваrjin's riches to fund the continuing creation of the chaos curse.

"I must see about the brewing of our ingredients for the god-stuff," the wizard said with that thought in mind. "When we find a quiet time, though, Druzil, I would like to learn a bit of that full-flavored language you so often toss about."

"As you please, my master," replied the imp, bowing as Aballister left the small room and closed the door behind him.

Druzil spoke his next words in his private tongue, the language of the lower planes, fearing that Aballister might be listening at the door. "Quiesta bene tellemara, Aballister!" The mischievous imp couldn't help himself as he whispered, "But you are too stupid," aloud, for no better reason than to hear the words spoken in both tongues.

For all of the insults he so casually threw his master's way, though, Druzil appreciated the wizard. Aballister was marvelously intelligent for a human, and the most powerful of his or her of three, and by Druzil's estimation those three wizards were the strongest leg of the triumvirate. Aballister would complete the cursing potion and supply the device to deliver it, and for that, Druzil, who had craved this day for decades, would be undyingly grateful. Druzil was smarter than most imps, smarter than most people, and when he had come upon the ancient recipe in an obscure manuscript a century before, he wisely had kept it hidden from his former master, another human. That wizard hadn't the resources or the wisdom to carry through the plan and properly spread the cause of chaos, but Aballister did.



* * * * *



Aballister felt a mixture of hope and trepidation as he stared hard at the reddish glow emanating from within the dear bottle. This was the first test of the chaos curse, and all of the wizard's expectations were tempered by the huge expense of putting this small amount together.