"Dragons of the Highlord Skies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

10

A case of frostbite. Hip deep in wizards. he journey to Icereach had to be one of the worst either Kitiara or Skie had ever experienced. Kitiara had never been so cold in her life. She had never known such cold as this existed. The air was painful to breathe, lancing her lungs with sharp needles. The very hairs in her nose froze, as did the moisture of her breath, coating her lips and mouth with ice. She knew now what the term “frozen stiff” meant. When Skie finally landed, Kit might yet be sitting on the dragon’s back, shivering, unable to move, if she had not been discovered by several kapaks out hunting. The draconians hauled her off the dragon’s back and carried her into Ice Wall castle. Kit could not walk. Her feet were so numb with cold she could not feel them.

Kit had heard of people who had lost toes and fingers to the nipping teeth of the cold. She remembered the crippled beggars outside of Haven and she pictured herself among them. She cursed Ariakas bitterly for having sent her to this horrible place, forgetting that she had been eager to come here herself to find out more about Laurana. Love and jealousy were both frozen solid. Kit was afraid to pull off her boots, fearful of what she might see.

She managed to control her shivering long enough to scrawl a message to Feal-Thas. He did not live in Ice Wall Castle as she had expected, but had built himself a palace some distance away. Considering the condition of this so-called castle, she was not surprised.

The kapaks carried her to a room known as the Highlord’s Chamber, though no Highlord was currently in residence. Feal-Thas had lived here once, upon his return from Wayreth, while he constructed his Ice Palace. A fire burned in a large stone bowl filled with some sort of oil and gave off a modicum of warmth. Kitiara huddled close to the flames. The kapak assisted her in removing her armor, but she was still afraid to take off her boots, for she still could not feel her feet. She was growing truly frightened when the door opened and a tall, thin elf clad in furs walked inside.

Kitiara would have berated the elf for not knocking before he entered, but she was too miserable and her teeth were chattering. All she could manage was an angry look. The elf regarded her in silence some moments then turned and left. He came back accompanied by a kapak who bore in his clawed hands a bucket of steaming water.

The kapak set the bucket down in front of Kitiara, who regarded it and the elf with suspicion. Clamping her teeth together, she managed to mumble, “What the hell am I supposed to do? Take a bath?”

The elf’s thin lips creased in a smile as chill as the surroundings. “Soak your feet and your hands in the warm water.”

Kitiara cast the elf an incredulous look and, growling something unintelligible, edging closer to the oil fire.

“The water has healing properties,” the elf continued. “We have not yet been introduced. I am Highlord Feal-Thas. You, I assume, are the Highlord known as the Blue Lady?”

He knelt in front of her and before she knew what he was doing, he had seized hold of one of her boots and yanked it off. Kitiara looked and closed her eyes in despair. Her toes were dead white with a horrid tinge of blue. Feal-Thas felt them and shook his head and looked up at her.

“It seems you live up to your name, Blue Lady.”

Kit opened her eyes to glare at him.

“The damage is severe,” he continued. “Your blood has frozen, turned to ice. If you do not do as I suggest, your toes will have to be amputated. You might even lose your foot.”

Kitiara would have continued to refuse, but she couldn’t feel his touch and that scared the wits out of her. She permitted him to remove her other boot, then gingerly, flinching, she thrust first one foot into the warm water and then the other.

The warm water felt good, soothing, until the feeling in her toes started to return. Prickles of liquid fire shot through her flesh. The pain was excruciating. She gave a low moan and tried to snatch her feet out of the water. The elf put his hands on her legs.

“You must keep them there,” he ordered.

His voice was melodic, like that of all elves. His hands on her legs were slender and looked delicate, yet kick at him as she might, she could not break his strong grip. She rocked to and fro in agony, her legs twitching. Then she saw color returning to her feet. The terrible cold that had seemed to strike clear through to her bones started to recede, the pain subsided.

Kitiara relaxed, leaned back in the chair.

“You say this water has healing properties. Is it holy water? Your doing, Highlord?”

“Do not be disingenuous, Highlord,” Feal-Thas responded. He removed his hands from her legs and stood upright before her, tall and thin, clad all in white. “You are here either to demand something from me or wheedle something out of me. Either way, you needed to learn about me and you have made inquiries. I’m guessing you did not find out much”-his gray eyes glittered-“but you would have learned I am a wizard, not a priest.”

Kitiara opened her mouth and shut it again. She was taken aback. Everything he said was true. She had come here to demand that he give up the dragon orb and she had asked questions about him, and she had learned very little. She knew only that he was a dark elf and a wizard.

“As for the water, Highlord-” Feal-Thas began.

“Oh, let us cease with the Highlording,” said Kitiara, giving him her best charming, crooked smile. “I am known as the Blue Lady to my troops. To my friends, I am Kitiara.”

“The water comes from a fountain inside the castle, Highlord,” he said, emphasizing the word, an ironic glint in his eye. “Not being a priest, I do not know what god blessed the water, though I might hazard a guess. Before the ice claimed it, the castle was once a fortress in the middle of the sea. The fountain has the symbol of a phoenix on it and thus I assume it was a gift of the Fisher God, Habakkuk.”

Kitiara wiggled her toes in the bucket. She didn’t really give a damn which god it was, as long as said god healed her. She’d only been making conversation anyway, trying to get a feel for this elf.

“I don’t see how any sane person would want to live in this horrible place,” she remarked, removing her feet and drying them off. She rose gingerly and began to walk about the room, helping to restore her circulation. “And you an elf. You people spend days composing sonnets to grass. You weep when you cut down a tree. You must truly hate it here, Feal-Thas.”

“Highlord Feal-Thas,” he coolly corrected her. “On the contrary, I have lived in this land since before the Cataclysm. I am at home here. I have become acclimated to the harsh conditions. Not long ago I returned to my homeland, to Silvanesti. I found the heat stifling, oppressive. The thick vegetation began to close in around me. The stench of flowers and plants clogged my nose. I could not breathe. I came away as swiftly as I could.”

“Why were you in Silvanesti, Highlord Feal-Thas?” Kitiara spoke the title with her own ironic twist.

“I had unfinished business with King Lorac,” Feal-Thas replied.

Kitiara waited expectantly for him to tell his story, but the elf said nothing further. He stood watching her and Kitiara was forced to carry the conversation.

“You heard, I suppose, that your king has been ensnared by a dragon orb he had in his possession,” she said. “Lorac lives in thrall to the orb, caught in a terrifying web of nightmares that are twisting and deforming your homeland.”

“I believe I have heard something of this,” said Feal-Thas, “and you are mistaken, Highlord. Lorac is not my king. I serve the Emperor Ariakas.”

His eyes were hard as a frozen lake. Kit’s penetrating stare struck the ice and skidded off.

She tried again. “Dragon orbs. Dangerous artifacts,” she said ominously. “Unsafe to have around.”

“Indeed?” Feal-Thas arched a thin, white brow. “Have you made a study of dragon orbs, Highlord?”

Kit was startled by the question. “No,” she was forced to admit.

“I have,” he said.

“What have you learned?” Kitiara asked.

“That dragon orbs are dangerous artifacts,” Feal-Thas replied. “Unsafe to have around.”

Kitiara’s palm itched and not from the cold. She longed to use it to smack the elf across his pale, fine-boned face. By arriving here half-frozen, she had placed herself at his mercy. She’d lost control of the situation and she had no idea how to regain it. She had bungled this from the start. She should have been better prepared to meet this Highlord, but she had discounted him because he was an elf. She had expected him to be weasely and sly, fawning and ingratiating, tricky and cunning. Instead he was dignified, straightforward, unafraid and obviously unimpressed.

Kit paced the room, pretending to be absorbed in her thoughts, all the while watching the elf from beneath her dark lashes. He was a male and she might try to seduce him, but she guessed she’d have better luck seducing an iceberg. Like the cruel land in which he lived, he was frozen, dispassionate. No flame warmed him. She noted that he stood far from the fire, in the coldest part of the room.

“Why have you come to Icereach, Highlord Kitiara?” Feal-Thas asked suddenly. “Certainly it was not to enjoy our climate.”

Kitiara was about to say that she had important matters of war to discuss with him, but he interrupted her.

“Ariakas sent you here to take my dragon orb.”

“Wrong!” said Kitiara, triumphant. “I have not come to take the dragon orb-”

Feal-Thas made an impatient gesture. “Very well, you have tricked a foul Solamnic into taking it. That is much the same thing, for the orb will destroy him and the emperor will take possession of the orb himself. A clever plan on the part of his lordship, though I question what right he has to lay claim to my dragon orb.”

“I did not know Ariakas had already spoken to you of this, Highlord,” said Kitiara, nettled.

“Ariakas speaks to me as little as possible,” said Feal-Thas dryly. He tossed the Emperor’s letter onto the floor at her feet. “You can read what his lordship writes if you want.”

Kitiara picked it up, glanced at it, and frowned. “You are right, but if he didn’t mention it, how did you know about the knight-Wait!” she called out, startled. “We’re not finished talking. Where are you going?”

“To my palace,” said Feal-Thas, moving toward the door. “I grow weary of this conversation.”

“I haven’t explained his lordship’s orders yet!”

“No need. I understand them well enough,” said Feal-Thas. “I will have food and drink sent to you.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said angrily, “and we’re not finished.”

He opened the door. Pausing, he glanced back to say, “Oh, and about the elf woman, Lauralanthalasa. I know the name, but I do not know her or anything about her. She is, after all, a Qualinesti.” He spoke the word with distaste, as though it soiled his lips, and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Qualinesti!” repeated Kit, dumbfounded. “What the deuce does he mean by that? Qualinesti! And how did he know I was even going to ask about the elf woman? How did he know about the dragon orb and the knight if Ariakas didn’t tell him?”

Kit dragged a fur blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, muttering to herself. “This blasted plot is mired in magic. I’m hip deep in wizards-first that witch, Iolanthe, and now this elf. Wizards sneaking around, chanting and whispering and wiggling their fingers. Give me a fair fight with cold steel.”

She toyed with the idea of leaving Icereach. Let Ariakas deal with his elf. Ariakas was himself a user of magic. He would put this Feal-Thas in his place.

A tempting idea, but one she was forced to discard. Returning empty handed would mean admitting failure. The emperor had no tolerance for those who failed. She would certainly lose her command. She might lose her life. Then, too, Kitiara was uneasy over how much the elf knew and what he might do with the information. If Feal-Thas knew about Laurana, he might know about Tanis. And if Ariakas ever found out that she was involved with those who had slain Verminaard…

Kitiara broke out in a cold sweat.

She flung herself on the bed. She couldn’t leave, not until all this was resolved. She had to crush this Feal-Thas, break him, bend him to her will. Except for Tanis, she’d never yet met the man she couldn’t conquer. This elf would be no different. She just had to find his weakness.

Kitiara ate a hearty meal of caribou stew and drank a couple of warming mugs of some sort of potent liquor cooked up by the kapaks. Confident in herself, she crawled beneath layers of furs and hides and slept soundly.

By the time she woke in the morning, she had decided that Feal-Thas must have spies in Toede’s camp-maybe Toede himself. Someone must have heard her asking about Laurana and had reported it to Feal-Thas, and, like a shady fortune teller, the elf had dressed it up to fool her into thinking he’d done something special.

This morning she would give Feal-Thas his orders regarding the dragon orb. If the elf didn’t carry out his orders, that was no fault of hers. She had done as her lord had commanded. When Skie returned, she would leave this icebound land and its frozen wizard.

Dragging one of the fur blankets off the bed, Kitiara wrapped herself in it and set forth in search of Feal-Thas. She was immediately lost in a maze of frigid hallways. After blundering about, she encountered a kapak, who informed her that if the wizard was in the castle, he was likely to be in his library, which was located next door to the room in which she had spent the night.

Kitiara found the room. The door was closed, but not locked, apparently, for it opened a crack when she gave it a shove. Recalling how he had barged in on her last night, Kitiara thrust the door open and strode boldly into the room.

A large white wolf lying on a rug beside a chair leaped to its feet. The wolf’s red eyes fixed on Kitiara. A growl rumbled in the wolf’s throat. Its head went down, its ears went back. It bared its teeth in a snarl. Kitiara clapped her hand to her sword.

“He will be at your throat before you can draw your weapon,” Feal-Thas murmured.

He was reading a large leather-bound book and did not look up. He said something in his own language to the wolf and, reaching out his hand, lightly touched the beast on its head. The wolf settled down, but the red eyes remained fixed on Kitiara. She kept her hand on her sword’s hilt.

She was fuming. Once again, he’d caught her at a disadvantage, put her on the defensive, made her look a damn fool.

“Please, sit down, Highlord,” Feal-Thas said, gesturing to another chair.

“I’m not going to be here that long,” she told him curtly. “I have been sent to give you the emperor’s orders regarding the dragon orb-”

“My dragon orb,” said Feal-Thas.

Kitiara was ready for this argument. “When you became a Dragon Highlord, you swore an oath to the Queen. You pledged to serve her. The emperor is her chosen representative in the world. He has need of the dragon orb and he has the right to claim it.”

The elf’s gray eyes flickered. “I could question that, but let us say for the sake of argument I agree.” He sighed and closed the book. “Explain this scheme.”

“I thought you knew all about it?” Kit said disdainfully.

“Indulge me,” the elf returned.

Kitiara related how she had lured the knight, Derek Crownguard, into traveling to Icereach to find the orb. Feal-Thas frowned at this. The elf wore his long white hair smoothed back from his forehead and the dark line of his displeasure was clearly visible on his brow.

“I should have been informed that you were going to reveal the secret of the dragon orb to another. You have placed the orb in great danger. Not from this knight.” Feal-Thas waved away Derek as inconsequential. “The Tower wizards have been searching for this orb for centuries. If the Wizard’s Conclave were to hear about it-”

“They won’t,” said Kitiara. “The knights want the orb for themselves. They are doing all in their power to keep it secret. They don’t want the wizards to have it any more than you do.”

Feal-Thas thought this over and appeared to concede the point, for he made no further argument.

“You will give the dragon orb to the white dragon, Sleet. When this Derek Crownguard arrives,” Kitiara continued, “you will allow him to find the dragon orb. Takhisis will give orders to the dragon. Sleet will be told she can kill off any companions, if she wants, but she mustn’t harm Crownguard. Once the knight has the orb and it has him-however that works-he will be allowed to depart with it. He will carry it back to Solamnia and that realm will fall, just as Silvanesti fell.”

The elf’s response was unexpected.

“You don’t like this plan, do you, Highlord?”

Kitiara opened her mouth to say that she considered the plan sheer genius, one of Ariakas’s finest, but the lie stuck in her throat. “It is not for me to like it or dislike it,” she said with a shrug. “I am pledged to serve my Queen.”

“I, too, try to obey Her Dark Majesty in all things,” said Feal-Thas in mock humility. The elf reached his hand down to scratch the wolf behind his ears. “There is one problem, though. I can provide the knight, Crownguard, with access to the dragon orb, but I cannot guarantee he will survive long enough to claim it. His death will not be my doing, I assure you,” he said, seeing Kitiara glower. “I will not touch a hair of his mustache.”

Kitiara was exasperated. “As I told you, Highlord, Sleet will receive orders from Takhisis-”

“I can’t, unfortunately, give the orb to the dragon.”

“You won’t, you mean,” said Kitiara heatedly.

“Hear me out,” said Feal-Thas, lifting a delicate hand. “As I told you, I made a study of the dragon orbs. You are right when you say they are dangerous. Few have any idea how dangerous. I know the danger. Lorac’s fate might have been mine. The orb has been in my possession for over three hundred years, ever since the wizards asked me to take it from Wayreth in order to hide it from the Kingpriest. Many times I have been tempted to try to gain control of the orb. Many times I have longed to do battle with the essences of the dragons imprisoned inside. I wondered, ‘Am I strong enough to make the orb serve me?’”

“And I wonder if I’m supposed to give a damn about any of this,” Kit said scathingly.

Feal-Thas went on as if he hadn’t heard. “I know myself. One doesn’t live for three hundred years without searching one’s soul. I know my strengths and my weaknesses. It takes a remarkable person to dare to try to control a dragon orb-a person with absolute confidence in himself, who, at the same time, cares nothing for himself, for his own personal safety. Such a person is willing to risk all-his life, his soul-on a gamble.

“I am conceited. I admit that. I care too much about myself. I came to realize I was probably not strong enough to survive an encounter with the dragon orb. Note that I say ‘probably’. There is always, you see, that one small scintilla of doubt. I found myself waking in the night, hearing its voice, feeling myself drawn to it. I would go to it, stare into it, feel the urge to put my hands on it. In a moment of weakness, I might succumb to the temptation. I couldn’t take the risk.”

Kitiara tapped her boot on the floor. “Get to the point.”

“Hundreds of years ago,” said Feal-Thas, “I created a magical guardian and placed it in a specially built chamber along with the dragon orb. I gave orders to the guardian to slay anyone who tries to take it. That includes myself. I have slept much better ever since.”

The elf went back to his reading.

Kitiara’s jaw dropped. She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I assure you.” Feal-Thas spoke matter-of-factly.

“Then…” Kitiara floundered. “Remove the guardian. Tell it to go away.”

Feal-Thas smiled slightly and shook his head and continued reading his book. “It wouldn’t be much of a guardian if I could control it that easily.”

Kitiara took a step toward him.

The wolf rose swiftly and silently to his feet and Kitiara halted.

“What do you mean, you can’t control it? You have to!” she said. “Those are Ariakas’s orders!”

“Ariakas ordered me to permit this Derek Crownguard to enter my castle. I will do so. He ordered me to let Derek Crownguard find the dragon orb. I will do so-”

“And he will be slain by the guardian,” said Kitiara.

“That will be up to the knight. Crownguard can battle the guardian or not, as he chooses. If he slays the guardian, he can have the orb. If the guardian slays him, well, there’s always some risk involved in questing after valuable artifacts. These loathsome knights wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

“You’re not in the least worried about losing your orb,” Kit said accusingly. “You know the guardian will slay Crownguard.”

“The guardian is quite formidable,” Feal-Thas admitted gravely. “It has protected the orb for many, many years and during that time it has, I fear, become extremely possessive. When I say I am unable to remove it, I am not being coy. I assure you, it would kill me on sight.”

“I still don’t believe you,” Kitiara said.

“What does that matter to me?” Feal-Thas said as he turned a page.

“When my lord Ariakas comes to pay you a visit, it will matter,” Kitiara threatened.

“The emperor will not leave his precious war to travel all this way to upbraid me, Highlord.” Feal-Thas glanced up at her, amusement lighting the gray eyes. “I am not the one who will face his displeasure.”

Clutching the furs about her shoulders, Kitiara glared at the elf in impotent fury. He was right, curse him. Kitiara had never come across such an infuriating man, and she had no idea what to do.

“Takhisis will not look kindly upon this,” Kitiara said at last.

Feal-Thas shrugged. “My god is Nuitari, Takhisis’s son. He has little love and less respect for his mother-feelings to which you can undoubtedly relate, Kitiara uth Matar, considering how you despised your own mother.”

Kitiara opened her mouth, then shut it again. The blood pounded in her temples. Dealing with this elf was like fighting a will-o-the-wisp, one of those fiendish swamp denizens. He kept flitting about her, trying to confuse her, jabbing her in places where she least expected it.

Kitiara dug her nails into her palms. He was trying to lure her into a bog of confusion. She had to concentrate on the issue at hand, ignore everything that did not relate to it, such as the fact that she had hated her mother.

“You want our side to win this war-” she began.

“Ah, the appeal to patriotism,” said Feal-Thas. “I was wondering when you would resort to that. I have lived in this world for several centuries and barring something unforeseen occurring I am likely to live a few more. I have seen emperors come and emperors go. I will be here long after you and Ariakas and all the rest of his vaunted Highlords lie moldering in the ground. I will be here long after this great empire he is building has crumbled into dust. In other words, Highlord, I don’t give a damn about your war.”

“Then why go to all the trouble to became a Highlord? From what I heard, you risked your life to return to Silvanesti and spy on your own people. You betrayed your own king-”

“That was personal,” Feal-Thas remarked coldly.

“Why did you do it? Because like all of us you’re ambitious! You want power. You want to rule. My guess is that you plan to challenge Ariakas-”

“Don’t get your ambition confused with mine, Highlord,” said Feal-Thas, still perusing his book. “The only thing I want is to be left in peace to pursue my studies.”

Kitiara gave a scornful laugh.

The elf lord shut his book and set it aside. He reached out to fondle the wolf, calming the animal, who did not like Kitiara’s loud laughter or her abrupt movements.

“I was born and raised in Silvanesti. Like all elves, I loved my homeland more than life itself. For reasons I will not go into because they no longer matter, I was unjustly banished from my lush green paradise and sent to a land where nothing lived, nothing grew. A land of death and desolation. My death, or so I thought.

“It was the dead of winter. The people of this region found me dying, almost frozen to death. They had never seen an elf before. They did not know what I was, but that didn’t matter. They took me into their homes and warmed me, fed me and sheltered me. They brought me back to life. I learned their secrets, secrets they had never revealed to any outsider. One woman gave those secrets to me out of love for me, for a handsome elf youth.

“I stole her secrets. I stole her love, and I betrayed her and the people who had saved me to the ogres who once dwelt in this land. My lover and her people were all slain, and when they were dead, I took their land and their possessions. My palace stands now on the byre where I burned the bodies.

“I am this land, Highlord. I am ice. Feelings such as pity, love, compassion skate off my frozen surface. If I were to somehow find a way to touch the sun, I doubt if even its flames could thaw me.

“What do I want? Peace. Solitude. I want to live here in my palace with my winter wolves and my books for the remaining years of my life (and I come of a long-lived family, even for elves), and I do not want to be disturbed. I do not want to rule anyone. Ruling people means dealing with people. It means instituting laws and collecting tribute and fighting wars, because there is always someone who wants what you have got and will try to take it from you.

“I became Highlord because I saw this was the means to my end. I intend to remove all trace of life from this part of the world. The thanoi will destroy the Ice Folk. The kapaks will destroy the thanoi. My wolves and I will destroy the kapaks. My land will fall blessedly silent as only the land can be silent when it lies empty and still beneath the trackless snow.

“So you ask what I want, Highlord? I want silence.” Feal-Thas picked up another book and opened it.

“You can find silence in death, you know,” said Kitiara grimly.

“Try it,” he said. “With a gesture and a word, I could freeze you into a solid block of ice. Then I would place your statue in the hallway-a lasting monument to stupidity.”

He resumed his reading.

Kitiara glared at the elf, but the glare was wasted, for he never once looked up at her. She considered her options. She could go back to Ariakas and complain about Feal-Thas, but that would only make Ariakas angry with her. She could leave Icereach altogether and let the fool knight come here and get himself killed, but again, Ariakas would blame her. Or she could just deal with the problem herself.

“You have no objection, I suppose, if I kill this guardian?” Kit asked.

Feal-Thas turned a page. “Be my guest. I can always create another.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Kit caustically. “I’ll give the orb to Sleet and order her not to let you have the orb. That way, you can sleep at night. What sort of guardian is it?” She considered the wizard’s likely talents, the probable location. “A frost giant? Ice wight?”

Feal-Thas’s lips twitched, as close as he’d come to laughter in a couple of centuries.

“Nothing so trite, Highlord,” he replied. “The guardian is my own creation. Quite unique, or so I should imagine.”

Kitiara turned on her heel and banged out the door. Feal-Thas smiled and scratched the wolf behind his ears and continued his reading.