"Lyndon Hardy - The Master of Five Magics" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hardy Lyndon)

"They are shifting targets now; good men." The sergeant banged his fist down on the wall. "Let us
see how those wagons can stand up to a little heat."

The incendiaries began falling more rapidly as the crew on the ledge gained confidence in their
engine, raking their fusillade back and forth across the pass, starting fires at random in the
densely packed train. Alodar could see . some of the blazes start up and then quickly be snuffed
out; but for every one extinguished, two more sprouted elsewhere in the camp. In some places, the
isolated pinpoints of light had converged into large walls of leaping flame, brilliant even
against the setting sun.

Finally trumpets sounded from somewhere within the widening conflagration, and the siegecraft
directly between the camp and the castle ceased their firing. Throwing arms and cranks were
battened down, rocks tossed back upon supply wagons, and the engines began to withdraw. A frantic
mob of men burst from the flame and confusion, like seeds from a flattened melon, and ran to meet
them, alternately waving greater haste and pointing up into the



cliffs from which came the. rain of fire. Alodar heard the zing of arrows from the castle walls
increase intensity as the defenders, unchallenged for the first time in days, vented their


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frustrations. Trie assault from the west ground

to a halt.

"The range is too great for them to be accurate enough," the sergeant crowed. "They will never
dislodge us from there. A few more hits will put the fire completely out of control. Let us see
what kind of siege Bandor can conduct, demon driven or not, with no supplies and only this
brushland to forage on."

Alodar watched intently as the mangonels were turned into a straight line, halfway between their
previous positions and the enemy camp. A hint of hope soothed the rumble in his stomach as the
first volley fell short of the ledge, crashing into the face of the cliff far below. His eyes
swept back and forth across the panorama, up to the ledge, into the burning camp, and back to the
engines and the growing mass of men surrounding them.

"But wait a moment," he said suddenly. "I see the logo of similarity on that cape down there. See,
the tall one, next to the second mangonel. He is a master, just as Periac is. I fear that my craft
will play a still larger role in the affairs of the day."

As they watched, the master thaumaturge directed the three running up behind him to dump the sacks
they carried onto the ground. A pile of small stones discharged from each. Two more men lugged
into position a huge cauldron and began filling it from a wagonload of jars that halted alongside.

"Lodestones," Alodar cried with sudden recognition. "Tracers. By the laws, let there be no