"Douglas Niles - Druidhome 2 - The Coral Kingdom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niles Douglas)

spell with his hands concealed beneath the table.
Alicia noticed several files of men-at-arms, bearing cocked and loaded crossbows, working into position
on either side of the visitors. For the first time, the princess noticed that Lord Randolph had left the table.
The earl must have sensed danger earlier and summoned the company of guardsmen.
"My message, then," said the stranger, with another overly flourishing bow.
One of his attending lords, a foppish fellow in a large yellow hatтАФthis one did look ridiculous, Robyn
decidedтАФscampered to the huge man's side, bearing a pouch of smooth leather. The courtier lifted the
enclosing flap and held the opened pouch out for his master's inspection.
The round face split into a wide grin, creasing the short beard into the rolls of chin. A plump hand,
festooned with rings, reached into the pouch, but then the fellow turned back to the queen, obviously
enjoying the suspense.
"This is more than a gift, royal lady. In fact, I return to you something which you have lost. Indeed, I
presume it is something you have missed very much."
The hand came forth from the pouch, holding a limp, sickly pale object. Alicia couldn't see what it was,
but then the man tossed it contemptuously toward the queen. It landed on the table before her, and the
princess couldn't suppress a scream of horror.
The thing was a human hand, bled pallid and shriveled from long immersion in brine. The ragged stump
of the wrist showed the mark of a brutal wound, inflicted by tooth or jagged-bladed sword. For a moment,
Alicia's stomach heaved, but she resisted the urge to turn away. Instead, she looked at the appendage more
closely, and as she did, her shock turned to horror, and then to a cold, brutal rage.
On a finger of the hand she saw a ring, a jeweled signet that she well knew, for it bore the seal of a
king, the head of a great bear. And with that recognition came the understanding that fueled her emotions.
For she knew that this was her father's hand.

* * * * *

Deirdre poked through the darkest shelves of the great library of Caer Callidyrr. The great white castle
was nearly empty, with most of the court gone to Corwell for the council. She would go there, too, but her
journey, on the wings of sorcery, would last mere seconds. She had no intention of arriving any earlier than
necessary.
As she did so often when her time belonged to herself, Deirdre came to this library. Driven by memories
or desiresтАФshe didn't know whichтАФshe explored the vast, dark shelves and must-covered tomes and
scrolls.
It was here, after all, that so much of her awakening knowledge had kindled itself into the flame of her
current power, here where the mysterious one had come to her, infusing her with the mastery of great
magic, allowing her potential to grow wildly. She hadn't known his name, but she had called him Malawar.
For a time, she had trusted him, learned from himтАФeven given herself to him in in faith and
affectionтАФuntil in the end he had cruelly betrayed her. Now she knew the reason he had kept his identity
secret. His power was centered in his name, and if she had learned it, she could have mastered him. As it
was, she had barely been able to evade his own attempt to control her.
She had only discovered his true face at the end, but ultimately she had banished the thing, driving it
away from her world. Yet in her contest with this potent being, something had happened to herтАФsome
reserve within her had broken open, allowing her to draw power from him, to tap resources normally barred
to human spell-casters. She had gained astounding abilities in a short period of time, but even so she felt as
though she had only begun to scrape the surface of her potential.
Every once in a while she had to wonder, with a little tremor of apprehension, whether this all had come
to her free. Sooner or later, would she be called upon to pay? Angrily, as always, she brushed aside those
apprehensions.
Worries faded as she pressed through new tomes, dusty volumes that hadn't felt the touch of human
hand in decades, perhaps longer. Some compulsion drove her to seek in these shadowy niches where she