"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 02 - Darkspell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

In a few minutes Sarcyn returned with a bowl on a tray, set it down in front of the Old One, then took
his place at AlastyrтАЩs side. The bowl held raw meat, freshly killed and mixed with the still warm blood, a
necessary food for aged masters of the dark arts. The Old One scooped up a delicate fingerful and
licked it off.

тАШNow, as for your own work,тАЩ he said. тАШThe time is growing ripe to obtain what you seek, but you
must be very careful. I know youтАЩve taken many precautions, but consider how carefully we worked to
eliminate Rhodry. You know full well how that ended.тАЩ

тАШI assure you that IтАЩll be constantly on guard.тАЩ

тАШGood. Next summer, a certain configuration of planets will lie adversely in the horoscope of the High
King of Deverry. This grouping in turn is influenced by subtle factors beyond your understanding. All
these omens taken together indicate that the King might lose a powerful guardian if someone worked to
that end.тАЩ

тАШSplendid! The jewel I seek is just such a guardian.тАЩ

The Old One paused for another scoop and lick.

тАШThis is all very interesting, little Alastyr. So far, youтАЩve kept your side of our bargain, perhaps even
better than you can know. So many strange things.тАЩ He sounded almost dreamy. тАШVery, very interesting.
WeтАЩll see, when you return to Deverry, if more strange things come your way. Do you see what I mean?
You must be on guard every single moment.тАЩ

Alastyr felt an icy cold clench his stomach. He was being warned, no matter how circumspectly, that
the Old One could no longer trust his own predictions.

Devaberiel Silverhand knelt in his red leather tent and methodically rummaged through a wall bag
embroidered with vines and roses. Since it was quite large, it took him a while to find what he was
looking for. Irritably he scrabbled through old trophies from singing contests, the clumsy first piece of
embroidery his daughter had ever done, two mismatched silver buckles, a bottle of Bardek scent, and a
wooden horse given to him by a lover whose name heтАЩd forgotten. At the very bottom he found the small
leather pouch, so old that it was cracking.

He opened it and shook a ring out into his hand. Although it was made of dwarven silver, and thus still
as shiny as the day heтАЩd put it away, it had no dweomer upon it, or at least, none that any sage or
dweomerperson had been able to unravel. A silver band, about a third of an inch wide, it was engraved
with roses on the outside and a few words in elvish characters but some unknown language on the inside.
In the two hundred years heтАЩd had this ring heтАЩd never found a sage who could read it.

The way heтАЩd come by it was equally mysterious. He was a young man, then, just finished with his
bardic training and riding with the alar of a woman he particularly fancied. One afternoon a traveller rode
up on a fine golden stallion. When Devaberiel and a couple of other men strolled out to greet him, they
received quite a surprise. Although from a distance he looked like an ordinary man of the People, with
the dark hair and jet-black eyes of someone from the far west, up close it was hard to tell just what he
did look like. It seemed that his features changed constantly though subtlely, that at times his mouth was
wider, then thinner, that he became shorter, then taller. He dismounted and looked over the welcoming
party.