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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 172 из 208He listened with barely concealed impatience as the man demonstrated a musical instrument fashioned so that its strings were plucked by plectrums fashioned from multicolored fangs, enspelled so that the resulting sound could imitate nearly anything the musician wished.
"A marvelous toy, but I have no time for music," Procopio said flatly.
The tinker nodded and reached for a set of tiny, exquisitely carved spoons. "Perhaps a gift for a lady? These are in great demand."
"Yet you seem to have so many of them," the wizard said dryly. "Not quite the thing. A lamp, perhaps?"
The shopkeeper's brow furrowed. Before he could admit that he had none, Procopio nodded toward the crystal chandelier that hung in the rear corner of the room. The man's eyes widened in astonishment.
"I'll take that one," the wizard announced.
"Two hundred skie," the tinker suggested without missing a step. "A bargain."
Procopio dickered a bit, as custom demanded. The tinker settled on a price that might have been considered fair, had the lamp truly been his to sell.
The wizard examined his purchase, surreptitiously removing the yellow crystal from it. He gave thе tinker an address of a quiet inn and asked to have it delivered and hung in a private room he maintained for one of his mistresses. It would not remain there long, of course. Given the pervasive nature of magic in Halruaan society, it was folly to keep a dimensional portal in one place for very long.
He made his way to the bin and took the crystal from a hidden pocket in his sleeve. A few words opened the portal, and Dhamari Exchelsor stepped into the room.
"What news?" he asked. Procopio related the events in a terse, factual manner.
"Let me tally this score," Dhamari said incredulously. "Uriah Belajoon is dead, and Basel Indoulur is not. Where is the 'help' the old man was supposed to receive?"
"Late in coming," grumbled Procopio. "But some good did follow. Malchior Belajoon, nephew to Uriah, has seen opportunity in his uncle's death. The Belajoon name is on every Halruaan's lips. To a clever man, notoriety is as good as fame. He sees himself as Zalathorm's successor and is gathering supporters."
Dhamari smiled. "Excellent! You do not wish to be seen as the only contender for the throne."
"Once the first sword is unsheathed, other wizards will step forward, either to support a powerful contender or to make claims of their own. Few of them will get far."
"So you are setting up straw men to be knocked down. Including Malchior, I suppose."
"Including Zalathorm," Procopio corrected.
"A marvelous toy, but I have no time for music," Procopio said flatly.
The tinker nodded and reached for a set of tiny, exquisitely carved spoons. "Perhaps a gift for a lady? These are in great demand."
"Yet you seem to have so many of them," the wizard said dryly. "Not quite the thing. A lamp, perhaps?"
The shopkeeper's brow furrowed. Before he could admit that he had none, Procopio nodded toward the crystal chandelier that hung in the rear corner of the room. The man's eyes widened in astonishment.
"I'll take that one," the wizard announced.
"Two hundred skie," the tinker suggested without missing a step. "A bargain."
Procopio dickered a bit, as custom demanded. The tinker settled on a price that might have been considered fair, had the lamp truly been his to sell.
The wizard examined his purchase, surreptitiously removing the yellow crystal from it. He gave thе tinker an address of a quiet inn and asked to have it delivered and hung in a private room he maintained for one of his mistresses. It would not remain there long, of course. Given the pervasive nature of magic in Halruaan society, it was folly to keep a dimensional portal in one place for very long.
He made his way to the bin and took the crystal from a hidden pocket in his sleeve. A few words opened the portal, and Dhamari Exchelsor stepped into the room.
"What news?" he asked. Procopio related the events in a terse, factual manner.
"Let me tally this score," Dhamari said incredulously. "Uriah Belajoon is dead, and Basel Indoulur is not. Where is the 'help' the old man was supposed to receive?"
"Late in coming," grumbled Procopio. "But some good did follow. Malchior Belajoon, nephew to Uriah, has seen opportunity in his uncle's death. The Belajoon name is on every Halruaan's lips. To a clever man, notoriety is as good as fame. He sees himself as Zalathorm's successor and is gathering supporters."
Dhamari smiled. "Excellent! You do not wish to be seen as the only contender for the throne."
"Once the first sword is unsheathed, other wizards will step forward, either to support a powerful contender or to make claims of their own. Few of them will get far."
"So you are setting up straw men to be knocked down. Including Malchior, I suppose."
"Including Zalathorm," Procopio corrected.