"Ed Greenwood - Spellfire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenwood Ed)

Rymel began, but he was drowned out in a roar of protests.
"Tell you what?" Rymel asked. "What would you hear?" "WhaтАФwell, man, you know!
Anything. Delg," the man added, turning to the dwarf, "you choose. You know
more of the old days, andтАФ"
"Odd things, aye," the dwarf of the company said sourly. "Odd myself, am I
not?" He chuckled away their protests, hefted his drink consideringly, and
said, "Well, Rymel, if you will, tell the tale of Yerevan's last race. It's
been awhile, and I would hear it again."
Narm noticed that Marimmar, who had been hemming and puffing in his seat,
forgot his vanity at hearing the dwarf's request and leaned forward in
interest. The two ladies who had defended Ghondarrath also fell silent and
turned to listen. The bard Rymel looked about at all the attentive faces and
said slowly, "Well enough then. It's a little tale, mind, not a great saga of
love and battle and treasure." "Tell on," the lady called Sharantyr bade him
simply from across the room. Rymel nodded, and spoke quietly. Silence
SPELLFIRE
fell but for the snap of the fire as those in the taproom leaned forward to
hear the better.
The bard was good, and his gentle words brought the tragic tale of the last
king of Westgate to chilling life. All listened, in the cozy room where the
old axe hung.
The mood of the evening had changed, the danger past and forgotten, Gorstag
affably at ease again. Marimmar the mage never did tell his tale... .
The Company of the Bright Spear drank much and went up to their room late.
Rymel, his lute left upstairs with their travel gear, had led the locals in a
score of ballads with his fine voice atone. Delg the dwarf had lost his
favorite dagger somewhere and was moody and suspicious. The burly fighter,
Ferostil, was very drunk, andтАФas usualтАФtrading coarse jests in voices loud and
slurred, and the wizard Thail, grim and sober, was guiding him up the stairs
with many a sigh and jaundiced look.
"Lend me a hand, Burlane," he pleaded, as Ferostil nearly fell back on top of
him. "This lout is nearer your size."
"Aye," their burly leader said good-naturedly. "We've lost enough tonight." He
leaned back to grab Ferostil's shoulder. "Come then, Lion of Tempus," he said,
hauling hard. "Now, where's that room?"
"This one," the wizard said, and threw the door wide.
Within, all was as they had teft itтАФpacks strewn about, cloaks thrown over
racks. A single lantern had been lit.
"My spear!" Burlane roared suddenly. "Where is the Bright Spear?" They peered
all about, alert upon the instant, but there was no place in the room that
could have concealed its flickering radiance. Their greatest treasure was
gone.
"By all the gods!" Burlane bellowed. "I'll have this inn apart stone by stone
if need be! That thieving bastard of an innkeeper! DelgтАФquick, run to demand
it of him! Thail, look to our horses! Is anything else missing?"
"Aye," said the wizard thickly. His hands trembled above his opened pack. "All
my spells." His face was ashen; he sat down on the bed suddenly and stared at
nothing, dazed.
ED GREENWOOD
"Thail!" Burlane roared, shaking him. "Come, we mustтАФ"