"Weis, Margaret & Hickman, Tracy - Darksword 02 - Doom of the Darksword UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)
Of The
Darksword
DOOM OF THE DARKSWORD A Bantam Sptelra Book / May 1988
Chapter art by Valerie A. Valatek Front mailer map by Stephen D. Sullivan
Ail rujtt.i rf.-trfeiK Copyright й 1988 by /Margaret Wei.' anil 7/vji-y Hifkman.
Cover art fopyrujkt й 1988 by Larry Elmort. No part of this book niay he rrprvAunl or tran.
mean.', electronic or inedxwvai, inrlu&tui pbotocopyini), rrivnVna. ar hy any information jtoragt and retrieval ,
ISBN 0-553-27164-* Publiibd) jimuttaiieou.'tv in the Cniteii State,' ani> CanaAi
Bantam Book,' are puirtubtt) by Bantam Rookj, a itieiiiaa of Banlain Doiible-Aty Deli Publishing Group, Ine. /.'.- trailemart, faaji-'tiiiii af the ╗-t>nl,-"Bantam Book.'" and the portrayal of-a rou'ler, i,- Ret/i'ltm) in I'.S. Patent and Trademark Offift and in after foaalrie,-. Marca Regitlrada. Bantam Book,, 666 Fifth Awniv, Nn- York, f/ev York 10105.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
O 0987654
CATHEDRAL N-OF MERILON
Reprise
, here was no dinner party at .Bishop Vanya's this night.
"His Holiness is indisposed," was the message the Ariels carried to those who had been invited. This included the Emperors brother-in-law, Prince Xavier, whose number of invitations to dine at the Font were increasing proportionately with the declining health of his sister. Everyone had been most gracious and extremely concerned about the Bishops welfare. The Emperor had even offered his own personal Theidara 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 Catalysts 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 tovwait until the tiny moon in the time-glass upon his desk had risen to its zenith. The waiting was difficult, but Vanyas 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, touching this strand of mental web and that, seeing if any needed strengthening or repair, throwing out new filaments where necessary.
,V REPRISE
The Empress Ч a fly that would soon be dead.
Her brother Ч heir to throne. A different type of fly, he demanded special consideration.
The Emperor Ч his 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.
Sharakan Ч the 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.
Vanya saw the greedy eyes watching him, waiting for his downfall. The eyes of the Lord Cardinal of Merilon, who had Ч so rumor told Ч already 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, measured pace, to the Chamber of Discretion.
The darkness was empty and silent. No sign of mental disturbance. 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 the web as he sent forth his summons to his minion. ╗,
He waited, spider fingers twitching.
REPRISE ,vi
The darkness was still, cold, unspeaking.
Vanya called again, the fingers curling in upon themselves.
/ may or may not respond, the voice had told him. Yes, that would be like him, the arrogant Ч
Vanya swore, his hands gripping the chair, sweat pouring down his head. He had to know! It was too important! He would Ч
Yes. ., .
The hands relaxed. Vanya considered, turning the idea over in his mind. He had planned for every contingency, even the unlikely ones. And this one he had planned for without even knowing it. Such are the ways of genius.
Sitting back in the chair. Bishop Vanyas mind touched another strand on the web, sending an urgent summons to one who would, he knew, be little prepared to receive it.
N O
o
o
The Summons
"S
karyon. . . .
The catalyst floated between unconsciousness and the waking nightmare of his life.
"Holiness, forgive me!" he muttered feverishly. "Take me back to our sanctuary! Free me of this terrible burden. I cannot bear it!" Tossing on his crude bed, Saryon put his hands over his closed eyes as though he could blot out the dreadful visions that sleep only intensified and made more frightening. "Murder!" he cried. "I have done murder! Not once! Oh, no, Holiness! Twice. Two men have died because of me!
"Saryon!" The voice repeated the catalysts name, and there was a hint of irritation in it.
The catalyst cringed, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. "Let me confess to you, Holiness!" he cried. "Punish me as you will. I deserve it, desire it! Then I will be free of their faces, their eyes . . . haunting me!"
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