"Kate Novak & Jeff Grubb - Lost Gods 3 - Tymora's Luck" - читать интересную книгу автора (Novak Kate)

or realm. To begin, we will be viewing the gods of Faerun, which is a fairly large continent on a
world called Toril, set in a prime sphere known as Realmspace. Ayryn has cast a spell so you can
comprehend whatever language they might speak." Montgomery flung wide her arms and
announced, "Let the experience begin!"
There were a few moments of silence while the factol took her seat beside Da'nanin and
Ayryn focused her attention on the crystal ball in her lap.
From his position slightly behind and to one side of Ayryn, Bors Sunseed, a paladin, studied
the faces of each member of the audience. Bors was the only participant who remained standing and
who did not hold a recording stone. He was also one of only four people who had been allowed to
carry a weapon into the room. There were certain people who might consider spying on the gods as
a highly blasphemous activity and who would consider Ayryn the primary offender. Bors's job was
to see that Ayryn came to no harm. None of the guests looked in the least bit displeased with what
was to come. They had been carefully chosen, and Montgomery and Da'nanin had done their best to
ascertain that none were impostors, but there was always the possibility of error.
There was also the possibility that one of the gods would detect the intrusion upon his or her
privacy, resent it, and send a retributory strike. While it was impossible for any god to enter the city
of Sigil, one of them might send a powerful proxy, or several proxies, to let his or her displeasure be
known.
There was a collective gasp among the crowd, and Bors took an instinctive step backward as
a goddess towered over the assemblage. According to folklore, which Bors knew to be true, entire
cities could be, and often were, built on the corpses of dead gods. So Ayryn's projection of this
goddess was by no means life-size, yet it was large enough to cause a sensation among the Sensates.
If the goddess reached upward, her hands would appear to brush the ceiling of the sensorium, some
fifty feet overhead.
The goddess was notable for more than her size, of course. She was lovely to behold. Her
glistening white hair, worn in a long braid wrapped about her head, suggested a woman of great
age, yet her pleasing features, the texture of her brown skin, the firm tone of her muscles, all
suggested a mortal in her middle years. Her figure was strong and womanly. "A rose in full bloom"
was the phrase that Bors's people might have used to describe her. She wore a short tunic of
unbleached linen and her feet were bare. Her only adornments were the ivy and wildflowers
entwined in her hair and a girdle embroidered with all manner of fruits.
Bors, who had been fully briefed on which gods Ayryn would attempt to scry, recognized
the goddess before him as Chauntea, the Great Mother, patroness of agriculture, symbol of Toril's
fertility. Ayryn's projection included the goddess's surroundings. Fittingly, Chauntea stood in the
midst of a recently plowed field. Insects and earthworms on the surface wriggled and scrambled to
bury themselves beneath the dirt furrows before they were eaten by the flock of robins that bobbed
along behind the goddess, chirping excitedly. Chauntea walked along the furrows, sprinkling tiny
yellow seeds onto the ground from a green cloth pouch and nudging the dirt with her toes so that
each seed was covered. She worked with the speed and grace of a practiced farmer. An unseen but
undoubtedly bright sun glittered in the sheen of perspiration that covered her bare skin. Mud and
dust covered her feet and ankles and even her calves. Her lips curled up in a tiny smile as she
attended to her task. If she noticed she was being scried, she gave no indication.
Chauntea turned about to plant another furrow. Bors wondered idly just how long Ayryn
would keep her eyes upon this goddess. While spying upon any goddess was a new sensation for
him, he wasn't a gardener. His interest in Chauntea's activity was somewhat limited, and the field
she was sowing appeared to be rather large.
Someone in the audience pointed to a spot behind Bors. The paladin turned halfway about.
Another figure had appeared over the horizon of Chauntea's realm. As the figure approached
Chauntea, Bors recognized it as that of Lathander Morninglord, another god of Toril and reportedly
Chauntea's current lover.