"James M. Ward - The Pool 3 - Pool of Twilight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ward James M)

as he hastened past, glad Tarl could not see the foul sight.
A scream echoed in the distance, a man's wordless cry of agony. Abruptly, it was cut short. Wicked
laughter drifted down from open windows above, followed by the sound of men fighting. Coarse voices
shouted curses so vile they made Kern's ears turn red. None of this, how-ever, seemed to bother Listle,
who scampered cheerfully along.
Tarl shook his head ruefully. "This is a dark time, Kern. I'm sorry you've had to grow to manhood during
these last years. And I'm sorry that you have come to stay with us at such a black time in Phlan's history,
Listle Onopor-dum. Without the hammer, the temple of Tyr is losing its power. And without the temple, the
city will lose its way."
A group of beggars shuffled by, swathed in rancid-smelling rags. Quickly Kern reached for the leather
purse at his belt. He distributed what money he had, but there were more hands than coins. The beggars
trudged on without a word of gratitude, their listless expressions unchanged. A putrid odor lingered in their
wake, the scent of rot and death.
"Why don't the people of Phlan fight to win their city back?" Listle asked. The elf stepped nimbly over
an ooz-ing pile of garbage, shaking her head in disgust. "I thought the citizens of Phlan were supposed to be
some of the greatest fighters in Faerun. They've been attacked by armies of evil countless times over the
centuriesтАФfrom goblins and orcs to trolls and giantsтАФand never once has the city been defeated. Now it
looks as if the Death Gates are going to collapse simply out of neglect. The next army of ogres won't even
have to bother breaking them down."
Kern shuddered at the thought.
"We can't blame the people of Phlan for being led astray, Listle," Tarl said reprovingly. "It isn't their
fault. The influence of dark magic is everywhere now. I can feel it in my heart like a great black weight.
Without the ham-mer, the clerics of Tyr no longer have the power to protect the people from evil or to
banish the darkness from the city. But we should not despair. There are still a few folk in the city who seek
the light and ask for the blessing of Tyr. Let us just hope that Patriarch Anton and the oth-ers have not
solved Bane's riddle too late. If the Hammer of Tyr can be found, the city might yet be saved."
Looking at the grim scene around him, Kern was not so sure. He kept his free hand on the frayed
leather grip of his battlehammer as they pressed on.
"By the way, Kern," Tarl continued, "don't let me forget to tell Patriarch Anton about this trait of yours,
this unmagic as your mother calls it. I confess, I often won-dered why I was never able to catch the
slightest glimpse of you, even after placing that enchantment on your armor. Now it appears I have an
explanation."
Despite his blindness, Tarl had the peculiar ability to "see" magic. It was a talent that had developed
gradually over the last several years. At first, Tarl had only been able to detect a faint glow each time Shal
cast a spell near him. Eventually, he began to see magical auras as glowing clouds of light. Now his talent
had grown to the point where he could not only detect all sorts of magical ener-gies, he could discern their
true natures as well.
So, Kern realized with a start, because of his magical resistance he would always remain invisible to his
father. That saddened the young paladin. He gripped Tarl's arm more tightly.
A sly look touched the cleric's face then. "Listle, of course, glows with such a brilliant silver color that I
can hardly bear to look at her sometimes. Though the hue is exceedingly lovely, of course."
"Why thank you, Tarl," Listle replied, positively beam-ing. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said
to me."
The trio passed an unsavory-looking tavern, a place by the cheery name of The Bloated Corpse, if Kern
read the peeling, weatherworn sign correctly. Raucous laughter drifted through the portal, along with the
stench of cheap ale and blood.
"Next time, dog, if you can't pay with gold, you can pay with your ears instead!" a coarse voice bellowed
from inside the place.
Abruptly a small, scroungy man came flying out of the doorway, landing in a heap right at Kern's feet.
The young warrior nearly fell backward in an effort not to collide with him. Kern recovered his balance,