"Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - Legends 03 - Test Of The Twins" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

Paladine." He sighed. "Poor Fizban. I wonder if he had to fight Raistlin. I don't think he'd like that.
I always had the feeling that he understood Raistlin, perhaps better than any of the rest of us."
"So maybe the battle is still going on," Caramon mused. "Perhaps that's the reason for the storms."
He was silent for a moment, staring up at the glittering shape of the hourglass. In his mind, he could
see his brother's eyes as they had been when he emerged-so long ago-from the terrible test in the
Tower of High Sorcery-the pupils of the eyes had become the shape of hourglasses.
"Thus, Raistlin, you will see time as it changes all things," Par-Salian had told him. "Thus,
hopefully, you will gain compassion for those around you."
But it hadn't worked.
"Raistlin won," Caramon said with a soft sigh. "He's what he wanted to be-a god. And now he rules
over a dead world"
"Dead world?" Tas said in alarm. "D-do you mean the whole world's like this? Everything in
Krynn-Palanthas and Haven and Qualinesti? K-kendermore? Everything?"
"Look around," Caramon said bleakly. "What do you think? Have you seen any other living being
since we've been here?" He waved a hand that was barely visible by the pale light of Solinari,
visible now that the clouds were gone, shining like a staring eye in the sky. "You watched the fire
sweep the mountainside. I can see the lightning now, on the horizon." He pointed east. "And there,
another storm coming. No, Tas. Nothing can live through this. We'll be dead ourselves before long
either blown to bits or-"

"Or ... or something else. . ." Tas said miserably. "I-I really don't feel good, Caramon. And it-it's
either the water or I'm getting the plague again." His face twisting in pain, he put his hand on his
stomach. "I'm beginning to feel all funny inside, like I swallowed a snake."
"The water," said Caramon with a grimace. "I'm feeling it, too. Probably some kind of poison from
those clouds."
"Are-are we just going to die here then, Caramon?" Tas asked after a minute of silent
contemplation. "Because, if we are, I really think I'd like to go over and lie down next to Tika, if
you don't mind. It-it would make me feel more at home. Until I got to Flint and his tree." Sighing,
he rested his head against Caramon's strong arm. "I'll certainly have a lot to tell Flint, won't I,
Caramon? All about the Cataclysm and the fiery mountain and me saving your life and Raistlin
becoming a god. I'll bet he won't believe that part. But maybe you'll be there with me, Caramon,
and you can tell him I'm truly not, well-er-exaggerating."
"Dying would certainly be easy," Caramon murmured, looking wistfully over in the direction of the
obelisk. Lunitari was rising now, its blood-red light blending with the deathly white light of
Solinari to shed an eerie purplish radiance down upon the ash-covered land. The stone obelisk, wet
with rain, glistened in the moonlight, its crudely carved black letters starkly visible against the
pallid surface.
"It would be easy to die," Caramon' repeated, more to himself than to Tas. "It would be easy to lie
down and let the darkness take me." Then, gritting his teeth, he staggered to his feet. "Funny," he
added as he drew his sword and began to hack a branch off the fallen vallenwood they had been
using as shelter. "Raist asked me that once. 'Would you follow me into darkness?' he said."
"What are you doing?" Tas asked, staring at Caramon curiously.
But Caramon didn't answer. He just kept hacking away at the tree branch.
"You're making a crutch!" Tas said, then jumped to his feet in sudden alarm. "Caramon! You cant
be thinking that! That-that's crazy! I remember when Raistlin asked you that question and I
remember his answer when you told him yes! He said it would be the death of you, Caramon! As
strong as you are, it would kill you!"
Caramon still did not reply. Wet wood flew as he sawed at the tree branch. Occasionally he glanced
behind him at the new storm clouds that were approaching, slowly obliterating the constellations
and creeping toward the moons.