"Richard A. Knaak - The Kingdom Of Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Knaak Richard A)

Quov TsinтАЩs bald head.

тАЬTsin! Show yourself, or IтАЩll have the men start dumping your precious equipment into the river! Then
you can go and talk to the beasts if you want to do any more of your incessant calculations!тАЭ Since the
beginning of thistrek, the Vizjerei had demanded pause after pause in order to set up instruments, draw
patterns, and cast minor spellsтАФall supposedly to guide them to their destination. Tsin seemed to know
where he headed, but up until now none of the others, not even Kentril, could have said the same.

A high-pitched, rather nasal voice called from the distance. Neither he nor Gorst could make out the
words, but both readily recognized their employerтАЩs condescending tones.

тАЬThat way,тАЭ the giant said, pointing ahead and slightly to the right of the party.

Knowing that the sorcerer had not only survived but had utterly ignored HargoтАЩs fate ignited a fire within
Kentril. Even as he proceeded, his hand slipped to the hilt of his sword. Just because the Vizjerei had
purchased their services did not mean in any way that he could be forgiven for not lending his dubious
talent with magic to the desperate hope of rescuing the ill-fated mercenary.

Yes, Kentril would have more than words with Quov Tsin . . .

тАЬWhere are you?тАЭ he called out.

тАЬHere, of course!тАЭ snapped Tsin from somewhere behind the thick foliage. тАЬDo hurry now! WeтАЩve
wasted so much valuable time!тАЭ

Wasted it?Captain DumonтАЩs fury grew.Wasted it?As a hired fighter and treasure hunter, he knew that
his livelihood meant risking death every day, but Kentril had always prided himself on knowing the value
of life nonetheless. It had always been those with the gold, those who offered riches, who least
appreciated the cost the mercenary captain and his men suffered.

He drew the sword slowly from the scabbard. With each passing day, this trek had begun to seem more
and more like a wild chase. Kentril had had enough. It was time to break the contract.

тАЬThatтАЩs not good,тАЭ Gorst murmured. тАЬYou should put it back, Kentril.тАЭ

тАЬJust mind your place.тАЭ No one, not even Gorst, would deter him.

тАЬKentrilтАФтАЭ

At that moment, the object of the slim captainтАЩs ire burst through the jungle foliage. To Kentril, who
stood just over six feet in height, Gorst had always seemed an astonishing sight, but as tall as the giant
appeared in comparison with his commander, so, too, did Dumon loom over the Vizjerei.
 Legend had always made the race of sorcerers seem more than men, tall, hooded figures clad in
rune-covered, red-orange cloaks calledTurinnash,or тАЬspirit mantles.тАЭ The small silver runes covering
much of the voluminous garment supposedly protected the mage from lesser magical threats and even, to
a limited degree, some demonic powers. The Vizjerei wore the Turinnash proudly, almost like a badge of
office, a mark of superiority. However, although Quov Tsin, too, had such a cloak, on his barely five-foot
frame it did little to enhance any image of mystical power. The slight, wrinkled figure with the long gray
beard reminded Kentril of nothing more than his elderly grandfatherтАФwithout any of the sympathetic
nature of the latter.