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

protruded from his back where one would expect the powerful wings of a splendorous djinn. Unlike
his clutch brothers, Astron had no real weapons with which to fight.

The broodmothers' talk was that Elezar's mood was most foul. Only the foolish or those consumed by
the great monotony would elect to be near a prince of demons when his disposition was less than
ideal. Far more pleasing were the thoughts of the cozy contours of Astron's own den where he could
spend eons rearranging the small collection of artifacts he had managed to keep for his own. If
hints of boredom did begin to grow, he could catalogue more of the names that the skyskirr gave to
their lithons or even start his investigation of what men called love. The summons of his prince
easily could have waited until the next scheduled time.

Astron looked about the outer perimeter of Elezar's domain. He was standing on a thin plane of
matter which hung suspended in the black expanse that constituted the realm of the demons. On the
flatness were massed the splendid domes of his prince, mighty structures that soared into the
blackness and blazed with color. In the distance other pinpoints of light shone against the
background of ebony, some steady and pure, beacons of the princes who did not choose to hide.
Others flickered at the edge of visibility, lures for the unwary or perhaps evidence of the
enormous weavings of warring djinns.

Astron glanced down at his feet and the smooth surface of the plane. It glowed with a soft
iridescence, pleasing to the eye. Pathways to the various domes were subtly marked for those who
knew the signs. Behind him, the plane ended abruptly not far from where he stood, the edge
sculpted in a graceful pattern that encircled the entire periphery. If he peered over the side,
Astron knew, he would see a scene very similar to the one aboveтАФglimmering lights in a pitch-black
sky.

Astron picked out a trail and followed it into the midst of the domes. The ones near the periphery
were squat and ornate, no more than simple hemispheres encrusted with arabesques and intricate
designs, lairs for brood-mothers and little more. Behind them towered the true marvels of Elezar's
domain, stiletto spires that soared to heights far beyond what their delicate walls would seem to
support. In clusters and splendid isolation, they sat atop broad vaults and fluted ellipsoids;
over a sea of juxtaposed and intersecting bubbles they pierced the emptiness of the void. Fierce
lights of lavender and orange upwelled from ports cut into the roofs of the domes. Intense beams


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ricocheted from shiny mirrors on the spires and scattered from curves and planes glittering with
twinkling jewels. Elezar did not hide his domain from others who hoarded their meager store of
matter in the blackness of the realm.

Astron quickly threaded his way between the outer domes and then entered an archway that opened
into one of the larger central vaults. He paid no attention to the small devils huddled around the
lump of rock in the first chamber, nor to the manner in which the stone jerked and bobbed above
their craned necks. Levitating a boulder was beyond his abilities, even if aided by the will of
others.

He passed sleeping lairs resonating with deep snores, treasure vaults crammed with artifacts from
dozens of realms, quiet rooms of dark contemplation, and weaving alcoves shimmering with half-