"James Lowder - The Harpers 05 - The Ring of Winter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lowder James)

Artus was trying to avoid the angry glares and suspicious looks he was receiving from the other
members, but it was difficult. To harm another Stalwart, even unintentionally, was considered highly
improper. This would mean yet another conduct review by the president.
"Oh my," Pontifax murmured. The mage was at Artus's side, a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "If
that Skuld character respects you because he thinks you're mighty enough to command creatures from the
Abyss . . ."
"Then he must be used to dealing with extremely powerful and unquestionably evil masters," Artus
noted. "Look, Pontifax, I think it would be best if I just went home and stayed there until Zin discovers a
way to get this thing off of me."
"Well, er, that might be for the best," the mage said. He turned away from Artus. "It's just, well, Theron
Silvermace is back from Chult and ..."
"And what?" Artus prompted.
Pontifax lowered his voice to a whisper. "He's asked to see you tonight, my boy. He says he knows
where you can find the Ring of Winter."
 Two
"It was horrible, Artus, simply horrible."
Theron Silvermace's features resembled a corpse's more than a fifty-year-old man's. His hair was bone
white, and it cascaded in long, wild strands around his head. The skin hung in loose jowls from his cheeks.
The jagged scar running across the bridge of his nose was a new wound, as was the pulped mass of one
ear. Dark circles rimmed his sunken brown eyes, which only heightened the frantic look in them.
"The goblins were the worst of it." Theron shuddered, then pulled the heavy blanket up to his chin and
shrank back into the pillows piled behind him on the daybed. "Kwee, can't you get that fire burning any
higher?"
"I will try," came the subdued response from the young man standing at the fireplace. The words
sounded hollow and tinny in the cavernous room.
Artus swore silently. It was already as hot as a Flamerule afternoon in the study. He mopped at his
brow with a handkerchief and tugged at the collar of his tunic where it was chafing his neck. After the cold
evening air, this heat was brutal.
His discomfort was not lost on Theron. For the first time that evening, a tiny spark of mirth lit his eyes.
"This heat's nothing compared to the days in Chult," he murmured. "Bearers dropping like coins into a
collection plate on a high holy day. You sweat so badly the clothes rot off your back." He looked almost
wistful for an instant. "I'd suffer it again to get rid of this awful chill."
"Maybe if you added my cloak to the blankets," Artus offered, reaching for the heavy wool garment.
"No, no," Theron said, then paused. "What was IтАФoh yes. The goblins . . ." The haunted look swept
over his face again as he renewed his tale. "It was five days out of the station at Port Castighar, on Refuge
Bay. We were searching for the ruins of a lost Tabaxi cityтАФ"
"Mezro?" Artus asked.
Theron nodded. "The heat had claimed a few of the bearers, and Sigerth, the only one from the club
brave enoughтАФor foolish enoughтАФto go with me, died from fever. I'm afraid that's what's got me now," he
noted without self-pity.
"The goblins came at night. My guide warned me about themтАФBatiri, he called the monstersтАФbut we
were supposed to be well away from their usual hunting territory." Theron shook his head. "Maybe he
wasn't such a good guide after all. Anyway, they ate him first, so he got what was coming to him. The
bearers went next."
Now it was Artus's turn to shudder. "Cannibals? Gods, Theron, I've never heard of an entire goblin tribe
... not unless they're realty desperate. Starving, I mean."
"Not in Cormyr or the rest of the Heartlands, but Chult might as well be another world." He nodded.
"Yes, that's it. Chult was like another world. Kwee, you might as well give up on that. The fire's not doing
me any good."
Kwee finished dumping an armload of wood into the huge fireplace. It was tall enough for a man to