Книга только для ознакомления
.
"Sentimental drivel-" Dalamar began impatiently, but
Justarius once again laid his hand upon the dark elf's arm, and the
black-robed mage lapsed into seething silence.
"I hear certainty in your voice, Caramon," Justarius said
earnestly. "You have knowledge, obviously, that we do not< Share
this with us. I know this is painful for you, but we face a decision
of grave importance and this may influence our actions."
Caramon hesitated, frowning. "Does this have something to do
with my son?"
"Yes," Justarius replied.
Caramon's face darkened. His gaze went to his sword, his eyes
narrowed thoughtfully, his hand absently fingering the hilt. 'Then I
will tell you," he said, speaking reluctantly, yet in a firm, low
voice, "what I have never told anyone-not my wife, not Tanis,
not anyone." He was silent a moment more, collecting his
thoughts. Then, swallowing and brushing his hand across his eyes,
keeping his gaze on the sword, he began.
"I was numb after . . . after what happened in the Tower in
Palanthas. After Raistlin . . . died. I couldn't think. I didn't want to
think. It was easier to go through the day like a sleepwalker. I
moved, I talked, but I didn't feel. It was easy." He shrugged.
"There was a lot to do to keep me occupied. The city was in ruins.
Dalamar"-he glanced briefly at the dark elf-"was nearly dead.
Revered Daughter Crysania hurt badly. Then there was Tas-
stealing that floating citadel
|
