"Julian May - Trillium 2 - Blood Trillium" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

And he pulled forth an embroidered leather pouch, opened it, and spilled a pile of cut gems onto
our eating-table: rubies and emeralds and rare yellow diamonds all asparkle in the guttering light
from our hearth.
I still refused. My wife was with child and one of the girls sickly, and in spite of the wizard's
assurances I feared that we two would not return alive.
To my dismay, my wife began to remonstrate with me, pointing out the good things we would be able
to buy when we traded the gems. I was in a rage at her silliness and greed, and we shouted at each
other, and the children wailed and sniveled until Portolanus barked: "Enough!"
His awesome magical aura suddenly enveloped him. He looked taller and supremely menacing, and we
shrank away from him as he drew a dark, metal rod from a pouch
at his belt. Before I knew what was happening, he touched my wife's head with this thing and she


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fell to the floor. I gave a cry, but he did the same to my poor little daughters, then brandished
the rod at me.
"Demon!" I screamed. "You have slain them!"
"They are not dead, only bereft of their senses," he said. "But they will not wake until I touch
them once again with this magical device. And that I will not do until you and I travel to the
Kimilon and back."
"Never!" said I, and I concentrated my mind and sent forth the Call to my Dorok tribesmen. They
came racing through the stormy night to my aid with swords and hand-catapults ready, gathering in
a howling crowd beneath the rocky overhang that shelters my cave door.
Portolanus laughed. He opened the door a crack and threw some small object outside. There was a
bright flash of lightтАФthen all the loud voices fell silent. The magician opened the door and
strode outside. My stouthearted friends lay there in the rainswept darkness, blinded and helpless.
One by one, Portolanus touched them with his rod, and they were still.
The families of the fallen now began to appear at the doors of their cave-homes, calling and
crying. The tall sorcerer turned to me, and his aura froze me like the glacial wind and his
terrible eyes had become blazing diamonds set in black obsidian. When he spoke, his voice was very
calm. "They will all dieтАФor they will live. It is your choice to make."
"You've killed them already!" I cried, beside myself. "I'll call the voors to tear you to bits!"
Whereupon he touched me with the rod.
I felt as a candle must when it is snuffed out: swallowed into utter nothingness. An instant later
I came to myself again, limp as a newborn vart, lying on my back in the mud with the rain pelting
my face. The magical rod was poised a finger's breadth from my nose and Portolanus glared down at
me.
"You Oddling blockhead!" he said. "Can you not
"Blood TriIlium
13
understand that you have no choice? I stunned you senseless, then restored you with my magic. The
rod will restore your family and friends alsoтАФbut only if you serve me!"
"The voors cannot fly long distances in the storms," I muttered. "During this season they mostly
remain in their eyries."
"I have a way to gende die storm," said he. "Call die birds and let us be off."
Having lost both courage and hope, I agreed at last. The wives and older children of the
settlement came forth to bear their stunned husbands and fadiers to shelter, and Portolanus
directed diem in the way to care for dieir loved ones and for my own family until I should return.