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The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 12 из 216Basel Indoulur was a fat, jovial soul who was frank and vigorous in his enjoymentof Halruaa's finer things. He was brightly clad in a tunic of crimson silk with beaded trim and voluminous sleeves. As was his custom, his black hair had been dressed with fragrant oils and worked into scores of tiny braids. When he laughed, which was often, the beads at the tip of each braid set up an echoing twitter. Procopio did not measure Basel by his appearance but by his ambition. The conjurer had reached a high level of magical skill and was the Chief Elder of his home city of Halagard. It did not escape Procopio's attention that Basel lost few opportunities to attend events in King Zalathorm's court. Much good may it do him. King Zalathorm was a diviner, as were most ruling wizards. It was widely accepted that only a diviner had hope of ascending the wizard-king's throne.
"Lady Day was a great success. All went well, as I anticipated," Procopio added, getting in a subtle dig of his own.
"Deft riposte!" Basel threw back his head and laughed delightedly.
The compliment dampened the diviner's self-satisfaction, but not for long. Procopio had other ways of making his opinions and his powers known.
"A fine night," he said mildly. "A shame to take the sky-ships down so early."
The image of Basel pursed his lips, probably to avoid grinning like an urchin. "And there's a sprightly wind," he agreed. "Seems to me a good ship, well captained, could race a dragon on a night like this."
Procopio permitted himself a smile. "You read my intentions. Figuratively speaking, of course. Shall we wager, say, a thousand skie?"
It was a princely sum, for the electrum coins were as dear as gold, but Basel did not blink. "Past the western banks of the River Malar," he suggested. "First man to the green obelisk takes it."
Procopio nodded, accepting the daring wager. The night winds were capricious, and the ships could not venture far out over the turbulent lake. Moreover, the junction of river with lake was a common site of wind tunnels. Here the river water, cooled by melting snows from the mountains, met the steamy air that seeped northward from the swamp. It was a volatile mix at the best of times and especially risky in the spring.
"Captain?" the helmsman said hesitantly.
The wizard waited until Basel's image faded from the globe, then gave a sly wink. "Hard astern, on my mark."
The helmsman picked up the horn and shouted orders to the crew, then repeated Procopio's count. He turned the wheel hard, and the starship began to trace a slow, wide arc in the sky. Her sails fluttered, then snapped tight as they filled with wind.
"Lady Day was a great success. All went well, as I anticipated," Procopio added, getting in a subtle dig of his own.
"Deft riposte!" Basel threw back his head and laughed delightedly.
The compliment dampened the diviner's self-satisfaction, but not for long. Procopio had other ways of making his opinions and his powers known.
"A fine night," he said mildly. "A shame to take the sky-ships down so early."
The image of Basel pursed his lips, probably to avoid grinning like an urchin. "And there's a sprightly wind," he agreed. "Seems to me a good ship, well captained, could race a dragon on a night like this."
Procopio permitted himself a smile. "You read my intentions. Figuratively speaking, of course. Shall we wager, say, a thousand skie?"
It was a princely sum, for the electrum coins were as dear as gold, but Basel did not blink. "Past the western banks of the River Malar," he suggested. "First man to the green obelisk takes it."
Procopio nodded, accepting the daring wager. The night winds were capricious, and the ships could not venture far out over the turbulent lake. Moreover, the junction of river with lake was a common site of wind tunnels. Here the river water, cooled by melting snows from the mountains, met the steamy air that seeped northward from the swamp. It was a volatile mix at the best of times and especially risky in the spring.
"Captain?" the helmsman said hesitantly.
The wizard waited until Basel's image faded from the globe, then gave a sly wink. "Hard astern, on my mark."
The helmsman picked up the horn and shouted orders to the crew, then repeated Procopio's count. He turned the wheel hard, and the starship began to trace a slow, wide arc in the sky. Her sails fluttered, then snapped tight as they filled with wind.