"Mickey Zucker Reichert - Nightfall's Promise" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichert Mickey Zucker)

NIGHTFALL'S PROMISE



MickeyZucker Reichert



IN the western quarter of the country ofSchiz , a fire danced in the hearth of the He-Ain't-Here tavern,
casting scarlet and amber patterns over the diners. Nightfall sat in the corner chair of a corner table,
beside King EdwardNargol ofAlyndar . Guards ate and drank around the periphery, their presences
ironically unnecessary. On his last visit, the eighteen-year-old monarch, then an impetuous idealistic
prince, had survived with only Nightfall for protection and company despite dangerousnaivete and a
pursuing sorcerer hell-bent on slaughter.

Arrayed inAlyndar's purple and silver and its crest, a powerful fist clutching a hammer, they all cut
dashing figures; but the young monarch put the rest of them to shame. Brilliant golden hair offset a round,
handsome face. His tall, muscle-packed frame exceeded even his guards', but his friendly blue eyes gave
him an air of approachability despite his imposing size. Of all the men at the table, he overshadowed
Nightfall most of all. Of average height at best, slender and sinewy, the assassin-turned-king's-adviser
sported short mahogany-brown hair and blue-black eyes that still held a glint of evil. Once a master of
disguise living as seven different men, Nightfall had spent months adjusting to his given name,Sudian , and
the one appearance he had never used: his own.

Commoners and travelers swarmed the nearby tables, keeping the help in constant motion. Nonetheless,
a barmaid or busboy remained always by the royal table, prepared to wipe up any spill, to relay their
least request.

When not cooking or cleaning, the pudgy proprietor stood in the doorway between kitchen and
common room, wringing his hands. He was not accustomed to royalty in his simply furnished red-stone
building. The upper class normally took lodging in the south-end inn that Nightfall had gotten to know
well in his persona ofBalshaz the merchant. As the polio-stricken odd-jobber,Frihiat , however, he had
grown familiar with the He-Ain't-Here's few rooms, now booked solid. He took some guilty pleasure in
the usually unflappable proprietor's discomfort.

In the best position for surveying the entire room, Nightfall noticed two men approaching, before any of
the guards so much as rolled a gaze in their direction. In his mid-twenties,the younger one sported an
overlarge head topped with muddy curls, a crooked nose, and broad lips. The other appeared
middle-aged, tall and thin with a mop of sandy hair and a scar that ran from the outer corner of his right
eye to his chin. Nightfall recognized both. The first was BrandonMagebane , a gifted man with the most
dangerous career Nightfall could imagine: hunting sorcerers. The second,Gatiwan , had
accompaniedBrandon on some of his forays, risking his life to rid the world of its greatest evil. Sorcerers
gained their magical abilities only by slaying those rare people born with a "talent," and their method
required tortuous ritual slaughter and taking possession of the victim's soul.

Quick as a cat, Nightfall rose and held out his hands in greeting. "Brandon.Gatiwan. Good to see you
both again."

Guards' hands went to hilts, but the exuberant greeting of the king's adviser kept them from standing or
making any overt sign of threat.