"Greenwood, Ed - Elminster 05 - Elminster's Daughter_v1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenwood Ed)

When his two laden bodyguards came to the door, he gave them a frown as
he blocked their way and pointed back into the room.

"You've missed something," he said sharply.

His bodyguards gave him astonished and displeased looks but whirled to
look at the dead merchants; the moneylender was not a master to be
crossed.

The moment they turned Caethur took a swift step, slashed them both
across the backs of their necks with his claw, and sprang away to avoid
the thrashing spasms he knew would follow.

The guards were young and strong. After they stiffened with identical
grunts of astonished agony, they managed to whirl toward their master,
glaring, and claw at the air wildly for some seconds ere the venom
stilled their limbs, and sent them toppling into the long dark chill of
oblivion.

Caethur applied another knife, this one slaked liberally with brain-
burn, to both of the men he'd just slain, and calmly set about
collecting everything of value in the room full of corpses. After all,
brain-burn was expensive... and after word got around of this night's
deaths, the hiring-price of guards agreeing to work for him was bound to
go up sharply.

Still, the cost of just one man informing the Lords of Waterdeep of his
deeds would be much higher. Kamburan's cloak, still draped over the back
of his chair, was unstained, and when bundled around Caethur's takings,
served well as a carry-sack. He drew his own cloak around him with not a
hair out of place nor any change in his easy half-smile at all.

It wasn't the first time Caethur the moneylender had walked away alone
from a room full of dead men. Such things were, after all, a regrettable
but all-too-often inevitable feature of his profession.

Outside, the shadow moved, swinging up and away from the shutter,
seeking the edge of the roof. A booted foot slipped, a curse blazed
sudden and bright in a mind that kept its dangling body coldly silent --
and with a sudden surge of effort, the shadow gained the roof and
scrambled away.

* * * * *

As soon as he entered the portal, he felt it: a disturbance in the flow
of the Weave, straight ahead. Someone or something was casting a spell
on his intended destination or had laid a trap of enchantment on it
already. Only those like himself, highly attuned to the Weave, could
feel it -- and move to avoid whatever danger was waiting.