"Brian Thomsen - The Nobles 04 - The Mage in the Iron Mask" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thomsen Brian M)

subtle motions.
Once again Rassendyll felt the metal pressing up against his cheeks and the back of his
head. Then he felt his skin begin to itch around his neck and scalp as if a thousand chiggers
had begun to take their bloodsucking positions along the surface of the skin. He next heard
the scrape of four bolts being placed in slots that connected the front piece to the back,
which was immediately followed by a cacophony of clangs as if he had been strapped to the
belfry back at the Retreat during the noonday chimes.
Even after the blows of the hammer had stopped, the ringing in his head continued, only
gradually dissipating over time.
"Are you sure the mask has adhered to his skull?" the soldier demanded.
The wizard smith grunted in assent, running his hand across the back of the tortured
Rassendyll's head, and around his neck as if to say "here, and here."
"Good!" said the voice from behind. "Call the guards."
The soldier left once again, and returned with three of Mulmaster's most trusted and
ruthless sol-diers of the company known as the Hawks.
"Unbind him!" the voice ordered.
Rassendyll went limp as the Hawks began to extri-cate him from the yoke and frame. The
itching and gnawing of the skin that had been adhered to the metal was slowly retarding to a
mild annoyance that paled in comparison to the soreness that his limbs felt from being
bound. As this was alleviated by the Hawks, a new annoyance came to torture him.
The voice, he thought, it sounds so familiar. Is it possible I have been tortured by
someone I know?
Once removed from the frame, the young wizard straightened and flexed his appendages
to return circulation to the outermost limits. Control soon re-turned to his hands and fingers,
as he quickly formu-lated a plan for fighting back in the manner he had been taught by his
magisters at the Retreat.
The wizard smith is blind, so if I act quickly enough, I might be able to cast a spell that will
over-power my captors before they have time to react.
Almost instantaneously, Rassendyll brought his now unbound hands into action, flexing
them in readiness for one of the numerous attack spells he had been taught. Clearing his
now unbound throat he readied himself for the incantation that he sought from the files of his
mind.
Fear seized him. He could not remember any of the spells or incantations! It was as if his
entire edu-cation had been erased.
"As I mentioned before," the voice instructed with a certain degree of cruel calmness, "we
have certain ways of handling mage types like yourself, here in Mulmaster. This lovely mask
that conceals your oh-so-attractive features also deadens all of your magi-cal abilities. You
have to admit that it is slightly more comfortable than being bound and gagged all the time.
Guards!"
The Hawks immediately grabbed him, one on each side. The voice came up behind him
again, deli-cately gauntleted hands feeling the edges of the two halves of the metal mask.
"Fine craftsmanship," the voice observed. "Form-fit-ting, yet feature obscuring. Too bad
you didn't allow much room for his beard to grow. Eventually it will probably choke him, but
by that time I am sure I will have no further use for him. Guards, take him away."
Rassendyll wrenched himself away from the guards to confront his oppressor. The
eye-slits in the mask necessitated that he only view objects directly in front of him.
Maneuvering himself into position, he faced his antagonist dead on, and fainted dead away,
for he realized that he was confronting a man whose features were identical to his own.
"Throw him into our deepest dungeon," the High Blade ordered. "The wing in which we
house the other madmen, vagrants, and detritus of society."