"Lyndon Hardy - Riddle of the Seven Realms" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hardy Lyndon)

the beginning of a bald spot. He imagined how he must have appeared to the wizard when he had
knocked on her door barely an hour agoтАФbrown curls on top, what there was of them, deep-set eyes
about a long slash of a nose, and wide lips in a sincere-appearing smile. His clothing was plain
but still fairly new. The road dust on tunic, leggings, and boots had just been applied around the
bend from the cabin, rather than being the result of a three-day journey, as he had said.

How much had his ease in gaining entrance, Kestrel wondered, been because of other thoughts in
Phoebe's mind, rather than the possibility of acquiring some of the rare anvilwood that peeked
from the rucksack on his

back. He savored the mental image which suddenly sprang into his mind. What would it be like to
offer a wagonload of true potency instead of the disguised snags and rotten branches and to ask a
fair price, rather than display an apparent ignorance of the value of what he possessed, or not to
hurry away before his deception was discovered?



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No. He shook his head sadly. He could not take the risk. He had to take advantage of the base
impulses of others. It was his only defense. Long ago, he had trustedтАФand the scars still
remained.

Phoebe suddenly stiffened. "I am yours to command, master," she said.

Kestrel immediately sensed that something was wrong. The air above the flame shimmered and danced.
A hand emerged from nowhere, and then a head with features more plain than bizarre. The demon was
no towering giant with menacing fangs and crackles of lightning, but Phoebe's jaws went slack and
her hands fell to her sides all the same. She had not won the contest of wills; the demon had done
so, instead.

Kestrel made a step to the left and then hesitated. The demon might be content with domination of
the wizard and pay no attention to him as he slowly glided past. It was still morning. He could be
well away before nightfall and anyone else suspected. On the other hand, he would be abandoning
what little anvilwood he had remaining with nothing to show for it.

In mixed fascination and fear, he watched as the demon continued to tear apart the fabric of
reality and emerge into the realm of men.

PART ONE

The Realm of Daemon

CHAPTER ONE

Astron's Trek

ASTRON ran his tongue over the stubs of fangs he had filed away. In the palm of his fist, now
clinched with tension, he felt nails ground short in the manner of men. Only two small knobs