"Nancy Varian - Berberick - Dalamar the Dark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varian Nancy)

the sparkle of magic in his blood? To serve as apprentice to the one mage in
all of Krynn who could make the Heads of the Three Orders afraid ...! He
smiled, but secretly, in the shadow of his hood. What wonders of sorcery could
he learn from this mage who'd stolen a Tower right out from under the eyes of
the three most powerful magic-users in Krynn? Uncounted! What power could he
gain, what strength, what insights? They were legion!
Dalamar lifted his hands and put back the hood of his robe, letting those
gathered clearly see his face and his eyes. One and all, the Heads of the
Orders kept still, allowing him the choice.
"My lords, my lady, I accept the apprenticeship, and I accept your mission."
Justarius nodded grimly. Ladonna said nothing. In the eyes of Par-Salian,
Dalamar saw not satisfaction but, strangely, sorrow.
It was as though, knowing what had been, the Master of the Tower could know
what might be. The thought a warning, Dalamar looked back....

Chapter 1

"Tell me, then," said Eflid Wingborne, his head tilted slightly back as he
looked down the length of his thin nose at the small bundle Dalamar had placed
in the exact center of the narrow cot. "Will you be easier to find now,
Dalamar Argent, or will I still have to send servants to hunt you down when I
need you?"
Dalamar stood still in the shaded corner of the small room. In the shadow, he
shaped his expression to one that might lead Lord Ralan's steward to believe
he considered a humble answer. In truth, he considered no such thing at all.
He concentrated upon the image of two hands holding hard to something-the
temper it would do him no good to lose.
"You will find me," he said, eyes low to hide his contempt. "Never worry,
Eflid-"
"Lord Eflid."
Dalamar held back the sardonic smile that twitched at the corners of his lips.
Lord Eflid, indeed, by virtue of the fact that his mother had been briefly wed
to a lordling of so minor a family within House Woodshaper that the name of it
was not recorded except in small letters at the end of a long, long scroll.
Eflid had not been the son of that man, but he still claimed the title, at
least among the servitors he ruled.
"Never worry," Dalamar said again. He looked up, leveling a long cool stare at
the steward, the kind he knew gave Eflid shivers. "I am here."
Eflid's eyes narrowed, glittering and green. "And here you'll stay, boy-no
more wandering for you. Be grateful Lord Ralan hasn't dismissed you entirely.
I've heard they are looking for a servitor down by the docks, a boy to haul
fish and repair nets. Let me look up and not find you when I want you, and
that's where you'll be working."
Boy, he said, boy. With nearly ninety years to him, Dalamar was young by elf
standards, but he was no boy. Yet Eflid's sneering address said that were
Dalamar to attain one hundred years and ninety, still he'd be a boy in the
eyes of those he served. Dalamar met Eflid's narrow stare and did not look
away, and so Eflid must.
His face flushing with anger, and with shame for having been the first to turn
his glance, the steward growled, "Now unpack your gear and get to work. You're