"Boreal Moon - 02 - Ironcrown Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

УA pity we canТt take these with us,Ф Scarth mused. УI suspect this ring might be a Weathermaker, like the one Conjure-Queen Ullanoth owns. And maybe the moonstone icicle can freeze a person in his tracks! Can you better that?Ф
Felmar rubbed his fingers over his own treasures. УThis thing of mine looks like a door. It must be a door! Conjure it and it opens into a better worldЧone full of sunlight and good food and friendly, carefree folk who donТt have to work for a living.Ф
УTake me with you when you step through,Ф Scarth said wistfully, Уand IТll concede you the sorcery contest hands downЕ What do you think that other thing of yours does?Ф
But Felmar was tiring of the game. УWho cares? Probably nothing that would be of any help to us. WeТd better turn in so we can make an early start tomorrow. Help me get these regular sigils back into their sacks. LetТs wrap the four important ones in the linen hood from my goodwife disguise before we tuck them in with the others.Ф
УYouТre still thinking about keeping them when we run?Ф
Felmar shrugged. УOnly thinking. We could probably sell them for a pretty penny to a magicker up in DidionЧor better yet, in Moss. Would Kilian even know they were missing when he scried the two bags of sigils? Seems to me itТd be nigh impossible to count the things, all bunched together like that. And he might not be able to fetch them for years.Ф
They discussed this interesting topic at some length, passing the brandy flask back and forth, speculating on what the four stones might be worth. Why, they might even offer them to the Conjure-Queen herself! SheТd know their true value.
УShe cТd perteck us from KilianТs revenge, too.Ф Scarth gave a tipsy giggle. УMaybe help us join the GlaumТrie Guild! I w-wouldnС mind takinТ a job at the Mossback court.Ф
УBetterТn holinС up in the Diddly morass fТrest of our lives.Ф
Neither of the Brothers had tasted hard liquor since entering the Order, where it was forbidden because of its deleterious effect on talent. But when Bo HernТs wife offered plum brandy in addition to the other provisions, theyТd hesitated only a moment. Hard times lay ahead of them. Ardent spirits were medicinal. They banished aches and pains and helped a man sleep when his mind was plagued by fear and worry.
Scarth and Felmar hadnТt planned to empty the flask that first night, but somehow it happened anyway. With all their troubles forgotten, they settled into inebriated slumber.
==========
At first, FelmarТs dream was much as it had been before. He was a young boy again, no more than ten or eleven years old, sitting under a flowering apple tree in the garden of the family manor house. His kindly grandsire was there beside him, warning him to beware of great danger from the wicked Kilian Blackhorse.
Now Felmar was able to tell Grandad about the newly hatched plan to outwit the alchymist. He described it eagerly, in much detail. But the old man shook his head in disagreement.
No, my lad. ThereТs a much easier way to get the better of Kilian. One of those moonstones you stole can provide a foolproof means of escape for both you and Scarth. I can show you how. You very nearly guessed the secret when you were playing your game.
УWhat do you mean?Ф
The sigil resembling a tiny carved door is called Subtle Gateway. It wonТt take you to paradise, but it can transport you and your friend anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye.
УBut the stone is inactive, Grandad! I canТt read the conjuring instructions.Ф
ThatТs not necessary, Felmar. ThereТs a simpler method of bringing sigils to life. Of course, only a very brave man can make use of it! But youТre no coward. IТm confident you can do it. Darasilo, the silly fool who first found the stones, never knew anything about this. Neither did his successorsЧincluding Kilian Blackhorse. All one need do to activate the sigil is hold it firmly, then touch it to one of the moonstone medallions affixed to the book covers.
УThatТsЕ all?Ф
If this is done, the supernatural Guardian of the Moonstones will pronounce a strange phrase three times. A great sense of fear will come over you. ThereТll be a good deal of pain, too. But if you keep up your courage until the phrase is said for the fourth time, the sigil will come to magical life, glowing with a green inner light. Hang it about your neck. Then all you need do is take hold of your friendТs handЧor anything else you want to transport along with youЧand speak your destination in a loud voice. Instantly, youТll be there!
УIt seems too wonderful to be true.Ф
Try it! What have you got to lose?
УWhat about the other stones in the trove? Can they all be activated in the same way?Ф
Of course.
УI couldЕ take all of them for myself?Ф
If you wanted to.
УThank you for telling me, Grandad.Ф
==========
Felmar forced his eyes open and struggled into a sitting position with his back against the saddle. His head spun from the brandy heТd consumed, even though Scarth had taken the lionТs share. The dim interior of the croft seemed to ripple like a disturbed reflection in water. He smelled acrid woodsmoke and wet leather, heard the other manТs slow snores and the rustle of gentle rain. The fire was still burning wanly.
The dream.
Could it be true?
He pushed aside the blanket covering him and crawled to where the bags of sigils and the books lay. Through bleared eyes he saw milky mineral disks in narrow gold frames fastened to each cover. Mere ornaments, surely.
Or were they?
Try it, a remembered voice inside his head seemed to urge. What do you have to lose?
He emptied both bags of moonstones onto the canvas that covered the floor, pawing and scattering the sigils in a frenzy of impatience until he found the tight wad of cloth that held the four important ones. He shook it open, dumped the stones, and selectedЧwhat had Grandad called the thing?ЧSubtle Gateway! The magical door leading to safety and to power. More power than heТd ever imagined.
Felmar grasped the little oblong carving and pressed it against a book disk, then gave a low cry of astonishment.
Both the sigil and the medallion began to shine with a gentle greenish light. He thought he saw a movement within the croft out of the corner of his eye, but before he could turn to look at it a deep voice that had nothing human about it spoke a question inside his head.
CADAY AN RUDAY?
Terror, deeper and more paralyzing than heТd ever known before, seized him like some ravening beast. There was pain as well, as though an ice-cold lance were being driven into his breast.
CADAY AN RUDAY?!
The awful voice was bespeaking him on the wind, more loudly this time and with angry impatience. The Guardian of the Moonstones, Grandad had said. The swelling pain was atrocious. His ribs were being torn apart and his heart crushed by frigid pincers. If he let go of the sigil, let it fall away from his flesh, the suffering would end. But then he would lose all chance of bringing the Gateway sigil to lifeЧ
CADAY AN R UDAY?!!!
He was deafened by the monstrous voice, blinded by hurt, shrieking voicelessly into the wind as the nerves of his body burned in icy flames. But he was brave. He would persevere, hold fast until the fourth time that the Guardian asked his question. He would remain courageous until the end.
The end came, engulfing him in an agony of silent Light.
==========
Beynor withdrew his bedazzled windsight, shaken to the core in spite of himself, and lay trembling in the bottom of the dinghy.
He rested for a long time, then sent his sight soaring once again to the interior of the faraway hut. Felmar Nightcott was gone, his flesh, blood, and bone reduced to a heap of gritty cinders. Although Beynor was unable to scry them, he presumed that the ancient books and the sigils were unharmed. From the conversation of the thieves, he had managed to identify three of the four Great Stones in the trove. The fourth was still a tantalizing enigma.
Perhaps when he entered the dream of the second man, he could coerce him into describing it.
But Beynor discovered very quickly that Scarth Saltbeck lay in a drunken stupor so profound that his mind was inaccessible to any invader. The jug-bitten wretch was incapable of dreaming! His natural talent was also totally incapacitated, and the protective spell of couverture had dissolved even before he and his companion had fallen asleep.