"Paul S. Kemp - Erevis Cale 1 - Twilight Falling" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kemp Paul S)

come to. Or at least maybe he should. How could he not? He had been called to the priesthood by his god
and had defeated a demon through that Calling.
But I chose to accept the Calling, he reminded himself.
Korvikoum. That wordтАФhis favorite concept from dwarven philosophyтАФelbowed its way to the front
of his mind. Dwarves did not believe much in fate. They believed in Korvikoum: choices and
consequences. In a sense, fate and Korvikoum stood in opposition to one another, as much as did
Vaendin-thiil and Vaendaan-naes, as much as did being a killer and being a good man who killed.
Cale reached for the wine chalice on the table beside his chair and took a sip. The five-year-old vintage
of Thamalon's Best, a heavy red wine, reminded him of the nights in the library he and his lord had played
chess over a glass. Thamalon had believed in fate, strongly so. The Old Owl had once told Cale that a man
could either embrace fate and walk beside it, or reject it and get pulled along nevertheless. That evening,
Cale had merely nodded at the words and said nothing, but ultimately he wondered if Thamalon had gotten
it right.
Still, Cale was convinced that the choices a man made could not be meaningless. If there was fate, then
perhaps a man's future was not fixed. Perhaps a man could shape his fate through the choices he made.
Fate delineated boundaries; choice established details. So fate might make a man a farmer, but the farmer
chose what crops to plant. Fate might make a man a soldier, but the soldier chose which battles to fight.
Cale liked that. Fate may have made him a killer, but he would decide if, who, why, and when he killed.
He raised his glass to the darkness, silently toasting the memory of Thamalon Uskevren.
I'll miss you, my lord, he thought.
He would miss the rest of the Uskevren too, and Stormweather Towers, but he would leave
nevertheless. From then on, he would serve only one lord.
He reached back into his vest and again withdrew his holy symbol. The velvet of the mask felt smooth in
his hands. He held it before his face and stared at it, thoughtful. The empty eye holes stared back.
Fate or choice? they seemed to ask.
Cale considered that, and after a moment, he gave his answer.
"Both," he whispered, "and neither."
With that, he turned the mask around and put it on, the first time he had ever done so in Stormweather
Towers. It did not bring the expected comfort. Instead, it felt wrong, as obscene as Thamalon's absence
from the manse. He pulled it off and crumpled it in his fist.
"What do you want from me?" he whispered to Mask.
As usual, his god provided him no answers, no signs. Mask never provided answers, only more
questions, only more choices.
Months before, in an effort to better understand his Calling, Cale had scoured Thamalon's personal
library for information about Mask and the Lord of Shadows' faithful. Unsurprisingly, for Mask was the god
of shadows and thieves, after all, there was little to be found. He had finally concluded that serving Mask
was different than serving other gods. The priests of Faerun's other faiths proselytized, ministered,
preached, and in that way won converts and served their gods. Mask's priests did no such thing. There
were no Maskarran preachers, no street ministers, no pilgrims. Mask did not require his priests to win
converts. Either the darkness spoke to you or it didn't. If it did, you were already Mask's. If it didn't, you
never would be.
The darkness had spoken to Cale, had whispered his name and wrapped him in shadow. And now it
was telling him to leave Stormweather Towers.
He sighed, finished his wine, and stood. If he was to be reborn in life's bright struggles, he would have to
do it elsewhere. It was time to go.
 CHAPTER 2
The Dead of Night
"Well met, mage," said Norel, as he slid into the chair across the table from Vraggen.
"Norel," Vraggen acknowledged with a nod. He unfolded his hands to indicate the tin tankards on the
table, each foaming with ale. "I purchased ales for us."