Книга только для ознакомления
. At an
easy trot, he followed.
* * * * *
"It's a thing a man picks up, traveling wilderness,"
Wingover explained, helping Glenshadow over a fissure.
"Never backtrack yourself without a diversion of some
kind. You don't know what might be waiting for you."
"And you might lose your horse," the wizard rasped.
"Better him than me." Wingover shrugged. "But it's not
likely. We've been around a while. He knows what to
do." The wilderness man paused and sniffed. "I smell
goblins."
"And I sense evil," Glenshadow said. "Magic and evil. I
wish I could see."
The man looked at him, peering into his eyes. 'You
mean you can't see?"
"I don't mean just with my eyes. There are better
ways, you know." He sighed. "It seems I've been blind
forever. The cursed Spellbinder."
Wingover turned the helmet, indicating the green gem
inside. "What about this one? Pathfinder. What does it
do to you?"
"Nothing... unless I touch it. You saw what it does
then."
"Is that because you're a wizard?"
Glenshadow nodded. "The two gems react to magic.
Pathfinder holds it in place; Spellbinder confuses it,
turns it upon itself. It is how Gargath trapped the gray-
stone. At least, such is the legend. I believe it now."
Abruptly Wingover turned away, holding up his
hand. "Hush," he whispered
|
