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The Floodgate :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 94 из 212The Crinti burst out from cover suddenly, and the slaughter that followed was swift and brutal. The shadow amazons fled as quickly as they came, carrying a treasure hoard of enchanted weapons and spell-filled artifacts.
Ameer smiled and nodded. "A clever move. They will win this game, I think."
"Yes, but not in the manner you might suppose. Watch."
The Crinti raiders ran back through the passages and emerged on the far side of the mountain, far from the battle. They mounted the horses tethered there and thundered off toward the grasslands of their barbarian homeland. Behind them, trapped in the steep-sided pass as they waited for reinforcements that would never come, their gray-skinned sisters died by the score at the hands of the Halruaan battle wizards.
When at last the scene was played out, Procopio tapped the table again. The still-moving figures melted away, leaving the battlefield eerily silent and littered with tiny corpses.
"Who remembers the foot soldiers who molder where they fall? It is the wizards, their spells, their legacy-these are the tales that fill the lorebooks."
An avaricious light began to dawn in the Mulhorandi's eyes. Encouraged, Procopio went on. "A single Halruaan spellbook would ensure your fame. Halruaan bards will sing of an invasion repelled. The Mulhorandi might sing of a daring raid. Amazing, how the same tale can be sung to many a tune."
Ameer took another long pull at his pipe before answering. "You think that I might stumble upon such a book?"
"Who can say?" Procopio said with a shrug. "The fortunes of war take curious turns."
It was all the confirmation the Mulhorandi expected to get. "I will get you the spell and the dust of my ancestors," he said. "You to your betrayal, me to mine. May Lady Mystra judge between us."
"Oh, come now," Procopio chided. "We are neither of us priests or paladins! Magic is not right or wrong: It simply is. We need not think of judgment, only of skill."
Ameer Tukephremo smiled grimly. "A comforting thought, I'm sure. For both our sakes, lord Halruaan, I hope you are right."
Chapter Eleven
Dawn was still hours away as Tzigone walked carefully through a hallway in Procopio Septus's villa, trying not to slop the contents of a brimming chamber pot upon the gleaming marble floor. One pace behind her trudged Sinestra Belajoon, similarly armed. The beautiful wizard was clad in a servant's smock and kerchief, but her expression-a blend of distaste and disbelief-was hardly that of an experienced chambermaid.
Ameer smiled and nodded. "A clever move. They will win this game, I think."
"Yes, but not in the manner you might suppose. Watch."
The Crinti raiders ran back through the passages and emerged on the far side of the mountain, far from the battle. They mounted the horses tethered there and thundered off toward the grasslands of their barbarian homeland. Behind them, trapped in the steep-sided pass as they waited for reinforcements that would never come, their gray-skinned sisters died by the score at the hands of the Halruaan battle wizards.
When at last the scene was played out, Procopio tapped the table again. The still-moving figures melted away, leaving the battlefield eerily silent and littered with tiny corpses.
"Who remembers the foot soldiers who molder where they fall? It is the wizards, their spells, their legacy-these are the tales that fill the lorebooks."
An avaricious light began to dawn in the Mulhorandi's eyes. Encouraged, Procopio went on. "A single Halruaan spellbook would ensure your fame. Halruaan bards will sing of an invasion repelled. The Mulhorandi might sing of a daring raid. Amazing, how the same tale can be sung to many a tune."
Ameer took another long pull at his pipe before answering. "You think that I might stumble upon such a book?"
"Who can say?" Procopio said with a shrug. "The fortunes of war take curious turns."
It was all the confirmation the Mulhorandi expected to get. "I will get you the spell and the dust of my ancestors," he said. "You to your betrayal, me to mine. May Lady Mystra judge between us."
"Oh, come now," Procopio chided. "We are neither of us priests or paladins! Magic is not right or wrong: It simply is. We need not think of judgment, only of skill."
Ameer Tukephremo smiled grimly. "A comforting thought, I'm sure. For both our sakes, lord Halruaan, I hope you are right."
Chapter Eleven
Dawn was still hours away as Tzigone walked carefully through a hallway in Procopio Septus's villa, trying not to slop the contents of a brimming chamber pot upon the gleaming marble floor. One pace behind her trudged Sinestra Belajoon, similarly armed. The beautiful wizard was clad in a servant's smock and kerchief, but her expression-a blend of distaste and disbelief-was hardly that of an experienced chambermaid.