Книга только для ознакомления
. Folding his hands, he regarded the two
impatiently.
"Well, go ahead. Ask your question. I'll have no peace
until you do."
Michael stared. "How did you know I meant to ask - "
"Is that your question?"
"No, Master, it isn't, but - "
"Then out with it! Entire volumes of history are passing
while you stand there yammering, wasting my time."
"Very well, Master. My question is this: Why were we
directed here to search for the Disks of Mishakal when they
are not here?"
"I beg your pardon," said Astinus. "I thought you came
here searching for the answer."
"I came here searching for the disks that hold the
answer," said Michael patiently. "I didn't find them."
"But did you find the answer?"
"I - " Michael stopped, taken aback. "Perhaps. . . . Well,
yes, in a way."
"And that is?"
"Those people out there are searching for the answer.
Lord Soth was searching for his answer. The knights in the
tower are searching for theirs. They were all looking, like
we were, in the wrong place. The answer is here ... in our
hearts."
Astinus nodded, lifted his pen, delicately shook off a
drop of ink. "And you discovered that without overturning
my bookshelves. Gilean be praised."
"There is one more thing," said Nikol. She laid a bundle
that clanked and rattled down on the floor in front of Astinus's
desk. "Would one of your people see that this is
returned to the knights in the High Clerist's Tower?"
"Your armor," said Astinus, still holding the pen poised
above the inkwell
|
