"Michael Moorcock - The Runestaff 3 - The Sword of The Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

It was true that Tozer's face had taken on a greenish
tinge.

"Very well," Bowgentle said wearily. "I will show
you."

"Before he leaves," came a new voice from near the
door, "ask him for the ring he wears on the middle
finger of his left hand." The tone was slightly muffled,
a little sardonic. Hawkmoon recognized it at once and
turned.

Tozer gasped and clamped his hand over the ring.

"What do you know of this?" he said. "Who are
you?"

"Duke Dorian here," said the figure with a gesture
towards Hawkmoon, "calls me the Warrior in Jet and
Gold."

Taller than any of them, covered all in armour and
helm of black and gold, the mysterious Warrior raised
an arm and pointed a metal-clad finger at Tozer. "Hand
him that ring."

"The ring is of glass, nothing more. It is of no
value..."

D'Averc said. "He mentioned rings. Is the ring,
then, what actually transported him here?"

Tozer still hesitated, his face stupid with drink and
with anxiety. "I said that it was glass, of no value . . ."

"By the Runestaff, I command thee!" rumbled the
Warrior in a terrible voice.

With a little nervous movement, Elvereza Tozer
drew off the ring and flung it onto the flagstones.
D'Averc stooped and caught it up, inspecting it. "It's
a crystal," he said, "not glass. A familiar kind of
crystal, too..."

"It is of the same substance from which the device
that brought you here was carved," the Warrior in
Jet and Gold told him. He displayed his own gauntleted
hand and there, on the middle finger, reposed an identi-
cal ring. "And it possesses the same propertiesЧcan
transport a man through the dimensions."