JК
The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 115 из 208If he did not know who and what Beatrix was, then heis a fool who has no business ruling a kingdom."
The diviner began to pace as new plots took form. Dhamari smiled. "I can see that this pleases you. Our first order of business, however, is to deal with a mutual enemy-Basel Indoulur, a man who could undo us both."
Procopio stopped abruptly and regarded his visitor with new respect. "You have a plan?"
Dhamari spread his hands modestly. "I was rather hoping you might."
"Basel has surprisingly few enemies. The only other I can find is Uriah Belajoon."
"Has he a substantial grievance?"
"I would not think so were I in his position, but the bereaved's wife was considerably more comely than mine," Procopio said dryly. "It appears that Lord Basel has murdered old Belajoon's pretty young bride."
A wide smile spread across Dhamari's face. "You have proof?"
"Not yet."
"It might not be needed," the little wizard mused. "If fact, it might be better not to trouble the Council with this matter. Uriah Belajoon is a strong supporter of the king. Goad him into taking his own vengeance, making him subject to Halruaan law, and we will have destroyed two more of Zalathorm's supporters." Dhamari glanced pointedly at the dead girl. "I will aid this with other attacks, as successful as this one."
"And in return?"
"For now, I would like my return held in secret. I carry magic that obscures my purposes, but I would ask of you additional spells to mask my presence, and a place where I might stay secluded. When the time is right, I will emerge-as a supporter of Halruaa's new king."
"Done."
Procopio extended his hand to the surprisingly resourceful little man. They clasped wrists, sealing a bargain with other wizards' blood.
Chapter Thirteen
Dust still swirled through the clearing, and faint echoes of the deadly battle rumbled back to the jordaini from distant peaks. Matteo and his friends set about tasks that came in the aftermath of battle-tending the wounded, gathering weapons, honoring the dead.
Andris composed Iago's body as best he could, then he knelt at the dead man's side and gently closed his eyes. He began chanting a litany of the jordain's deeds and accomplishments, looking weirdly like a spirit come to welcome a brother to the next world.
Themo sat white-faced but stoic as Basel Indoulur stitched the gash on his shoulder. "Shame we don't have a priest handy," Basel murmured, his plump, jeweled hands moving with practiced skill.
The diviner began to pace as new plots took form. Dhamari smiled. "I can see that this pleases you. Our first order of business, however, is to deal with a mutual enemy-Basel Indoulur, a man who could undo us both."
Procopio stopped abruptly and regarded his visitor with new respect. "You have a plan?"
Dhamari spread his hands modestly. "I was rather hoping you might."
"Basel has surprisingly few enemies. The only other I can find is Uriah Belajoon."
"Has he a substantial grievance?"
"I would not think so were I in his position, but the bereaved's wife was considerably more comely than mine," Procopio said dryly. "It appears that Lord Basel has murdered old Belajoon's pretty young bride."
A wide smile spread across Dhamari's face. "You have proof?"
"Not yet."
"It might not be needed," the little wizard mused. "If fact, it might be better not to trouble the Council with this matter. Uriah Belajoon is a strong supporter of the king. Goad him into taking his own vengeance, making him subject to Halruaan law, and we will have destroyed two more of Zalathorm's supporters." Dhamari glanced pointedly at the dead girl. "I will aid this with other attacks, as successful as this one."
"And in return?"
"For now, I would like my return held in secret. I carry magic that obscures my purposes, but I would ask of you additional spells to mask my presence, and a place where I might stay secluded. When the time is right, I will emerge-as a supporter of Halruaa's new king."
"Done."
Procopio extended his hand to the surprisingly resourceful little man. They clasped wrists, sealing a bargain with other wizards' blood.
Chapter Thirteen
Dust still swirled through the clearing, and faint echoes of the deadly battle rumbled back to the jordaini from distant peaks. Matteo and his friends set about tasks that came in the aftermath of battle-tending the wounded, gathering weapons, honoring the dead.
Andris composed Iago's body as best he could, then he knelt at the dead man's side and gently closed his eyes. He began chanting a litany of the jordain's deeds and accomplishments, looking weirdly like a spirit come to welcome a brother to the next world.
Themo sat white-faced but stoic as Basel Indoulur stitched the gash on his shoulder. "Shame we don't have a priest handy," Basel murmured, his plump, jeweled hands moving with practiced skill.