"Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - The Darksword Trilogy 02 - Doom of the Darksword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

Doom of the Darksword
Book 2 of the Darksword Trilogy
By Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman


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 Reprise
There was no dinner party at Bishop Vanya's this night.
"His Holiness is indisposed," was the message the Ariels car-ried to those who had been invited. This
included the Emperor's brother-in-law, Prince Xavier. whose number of invitations to dine at the Font
were increasing proportionately with the de-clining health of his sister. Everyone had been most gracious
and extremely concerned about the Bishop's welfare. The Emperor had even offered his own personal
Theldara to the Bishop, but this was respectfully declined.
Vanya dined alone, and so preoccupied was the Bishop that he might have been eating sausages along
with his Field Cata-lysts instead of the delicacies of peacocks tongue and lizards tail which he barely
tasted and never noticed were underdone.
Having finished and sent away the tray, he sipped a brandy and composed himself to wait until the tiny
moon in the time-glass upon his desk had risen to its zenith. The waiting was difficult, but Vanya's mind
was so occupied that he found the time sliding past more rapidly than he had expected. The pudgy fingers
crawled increasingly along the arms of the chair, touch-ing this strand of mental web and that, seeing if
any needed strengthening or repair, throwing out new filaments where nec-essary.
The EmpressтАФa fly that would soon be dead.
Her brotherтАФheir to throne. A different type of fly, he de-manded special consideration.
The EmperorтАФhis sanity at the best of times precarious, the death of his beloved wife and the loss of
his position might well topple a mind weak to begin with.
SharakanтАФthe other empires in Thimhallan were watching this rebellious state with too much interest.
It must be crushed, the people taught a lesson. And with them, the Sorcerers of the Ninth Art wiped out
completely. That was shaping up nicely . . . or had been.
Vanya fidgeted uncomfortably and glanced at the timeglass. The tiny moon was just now appearing
over the horizon. With a growl, the Bishop poured himself another brandy.
The boyтАФDamn the boy. And damn that blasted catalyst, too. Darkstone. Vanya closed his eyes,
shuddering. He was in peril, deadly peril. If anyone ever discovered the incredible blunder he had made .
..
Vanya saw the greedy eyes watching him, waiting for his downfall. The eyes of the Lord Cardinal of
Merilon, who hadтАФso rumor toldтАФalready drawn up plans for redecorating the Bishop's chambers in
the Font. The eyes of his own Cardinal, a slow-thinking man, to be sure, but one who had risen through
the ranks by plodding along slowly and surely, trampling over anything or anyone who got in his way.
And there were others. Watching, waiting, hungry . . .
If they got so much as a sniff of his failure, they'd be on him like griffins, rending his flesh with their
talons.
But no! Vanya clenched the pudgy hand, then forced himself to relax. All was well. He had planned
for every contingency, even the unlikely ones.
With this thought in mind and noticing that the moon was finally nearing the top of the timeglass, the
Bishop heaved his bulk out of the chair and made his way, walking at a slow, mea-sured pace, to the
Chamber of Discretion.
The darkness was empty and silent. No sign of mental dis-turbance. Perhaps that was a good sign,
Vanya told himself as he sat down in the center of the round room. But a tremor of fear shivered through