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

in woman's form. He could still feel the bump on the back of his head where she had clubbed him
with his own frying pan. Had the paladin not sworn his undivided service as Ayryn's bodyguard for
the evening, he would have challenged the woman's presence.
 The room darkened once more, though only slightly. Two figures appeared in the center of
the room, a young man with red hair and a slightly older raven-haired woman. The pair were seated
at a table, drinking ale. They were the size of ordinary mortals, but the woman sported a pair of
copper wings, and her face was covered with black feathers.
While the audience was busy trying to guess which gods they were seeing, Bors realized
something had gone wrong with Ayryn's scrying. These people were not gods. The man Bors
recognized as a priest named Joel, a Prime from Toril, the same world whose gods they were cur-
rently spying upon. Bors had never met the winged woman, but from a description his friend Holly
Harrowslough had given him, he guessed she was another Prime by the name of Jas.
"Jas, you're being ridiculous about this," Joel said. "Give me one good reason why you won't
come with me."
"I don't have to give you any reasons," Jas retorted. "This is my business. Why don't you just
let me be?" The whites of her eyes flared, and her dark brown irises began glowing green.
"You don't mean that," Joel argued.
The vision quickly faded. Ayryn looked up, shaking her head. "Misdirected," she whispered
in Montgomery's direction. "I'm going to try one more time," she said.
The room dimmed somewhat. A god Bors recognized appeared in the center of the room.
The deity was seated on a bench, strumming a lyre. He appeared as a handsome young man about
ten feet tall with shoulder-length hair of spun gold. He wore a tunic of fine brocade with fur trim.
Behind him was a great library, with shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. The god was Milil,
Lord of Song.
Milil looked up from his instrument. "At last, an audience," he said with a sly grin.
Bors's body tensed.
"Welcome, prying eyes," Milil greeted them. "I expect you to pay attention now. It's the
least you can do after peering into my realm without invitation."
Milil began to sing "The Baker's Daughter," a love song about a silver dragon's love for a
mortal woman. His voice was deep and mellifluous. Several of the women in the audience sighed.
Next Milil sang "Pipeweed Dreams," a halfling drinking song. Many members of the
audience joined in, while others just hummed along softly.
Milil sang "The Seven Sisters," a long ballad. Then he sang "Three Thayvian Roses," a
bawdy festhall tune that brought a blush even to Montgomery's face. Finally he began, 'The Purple
Dragons of Cormyr," another long ballad. A few members of the audience began to nod off. Milil
woke them with a little shout. The concert continued. Milil began singing several old Torillian folk
songs one about the weather, another about crops, and even one about milking cows.
Bors stole a glance at Ayryn. Surely she cannot keep scrying for much longer, he thought.
She must be exhausted.
Ayryn's blue skin was pale. There was a glazed look over her eyes. Although deities could
not enter Sigil, somehow Milil had managed to get some charm through the crystal.
"And now," Milil said, "I have a truly special treat. "The finale from the opera The Fall of
Myth Drannor."
Bors slipped up to Ayryn and yanked the crystal ball from her hand.
Mercifully, Milil's image disappeared.
The audience shook themselves from their stupor. Montgomery laughed.
"My, but wasn't that interesting," the Sensate leader said.


I've heard that people commit murders at the operas and no one notices because everyone