"Kate Novak - Finders Stone 1 - Azure Bonds" - читать интересную книгу автора (Novak Kate)

Alias nodded. Winefiddle began removing a number of tattered scrolls from a
cabinet. "The one advantage to serving an adventurer's goddess," he yawned as
he
spoke, "is a steady stream of worshippers in need of your special services,
worshippers willing to pay in magical items."
The cleric stifled another yawn, and Alias gave him a blank look she bestowed
on
fools she needed to tolerate. As far as she was concerned, clerics were merely
puttering quasi-mages who couldn't cast spells without worrying about
converts,
theology, relics, and other nonsense. If they weren't so useful when sickness,
famine, and war struck, they would probably have died out altogether, Alias
decided, taking their gods with them. Perhaps the gods knew that, and that's
why
they put up with the fools.
Winefiddle pulled bundles of scrolls from the cabinet with all the grace of a
fishmonger hoisting salmon. He hummed as he checked their tags. Alias sat
there
as quietly and patiently as possible, wishing she had stopped at another inn
for
a pouch of decent rum. Finally, the priest pulled two from the lot that seemed
to please him.
Despite Alias's warning of what had happened in The Hidden Lady, Winefiddle
wanted to begin with a standard magical detection. He waved aside her
objections, insisting, "I need to see this extreme reaction myself. Nothing to
be afraid of since we know what to expect this time, right?"
Alias submitted with a grudging sigh. The cleric passed his silver disk of
Tymora over her outstretched arm. The words he muttered were different from
the
Turmish mage's, but the effect was the same. Alias shuddered as the symbols
writhed beneath her skin, and she squinted in anticipation of the bright,
sapphire radiance which soon lit every corner of the musty study.
Winefiddle's eyebrows disappeared into his low hairline, amazed at the
brilliance of the glow. Alias clenched her muscles involuntarily, and the rays
swayed about the room like signal beacons, bouncing off the darkened window
and
the priest's silver holy symbol.
The glow peaked and began to ebb slowly Winefiddle cleared his throat
nervously
a few times before he reached for the larger of the two scrolls on the desk.
In
the blue light he looked less pasty and more powerful, but Alias was beginning
to wonder if he knew what he was doing.
"You really think that piece of paper's going to be strong enough?" she asked
doubtfully. Maybe I should put this off until morning, she thought. The Shrine
of Oghma or the Temple of Deneir might have more competent help.
"This scroll was written by the hand of the Arch-cleric Mzentul himself, it
should remove these horrors without delay." He stroked his chin thoughtfully
and
added, "It being such an old and irreplaceable scroll, perhaps you wouldn't