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Dave Gross: Lord of Stormweather

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Dave Gross Lord of Stormweather

Lord of Stormweather: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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There, seven dark figures stood silently in the water, the foul vapors of the sewage mingling with their own indefinite forms. Two looked like street toughs, one a bony old crone, one a dwarf with hairy shoulders, the others middle-aged noblemen of no remarkable features. Their exposed hands were the color of oysters, as were the points of their chins. They hung their heads so low that their damp black hair covered the rest of their faces.

"Who are they?" whispered Radu.

"It certainly took you long enough to notice them. Don't you ever look in a mirror?" Chaney paused for dramatic affect. "What am I saying, of course you don't look in-"

"Who are they?" Radu's voice was full of razors.

"Don't you recognize them?"

Radu's narrowing eyes showed that he did. "They don't look the same as you."

"No, but they died after your rather ignoble defeat, didn't they?"

Radu stared at the shades a moment longer, then he raised his head as if in understanding. He sheathed his sword and strode briskly away.

Chaney chuckled as he watched the man retreat, then gulped as he felt the invisible bonds that kept him within thirty paces of his killer drag him along in his wake.

Radu came to an intersection where three brown streams converged into the wider flow he'd been following. Chaney peered around the corner and saw the amber light of a pair of lanterns twenty feet down one of the passages.

Radu moved silently to the edge of the light.

A well-fed nobleman stood between the lanterns. His velvet gown was heavy with gold thread and tiny jewels, except where sewer mud covered his back and left sleeve. Behind him was a wooden ladder, its second rung freshly broken.

Chaney recognized the fat man as Thuribal Baerodreemer. A generation ago, the Baerodreemers had been among the coalition that brought down House Uskevren, the most powerful of House Foxmantle's allies and the family of Chaney's best friend. Chaney had little use for a Baerodreemer and hoped the man did something to irritate Radu. That could prove entertaining.

"Ah!" Thuribal clutched at his chest as he suddenly noticed Radu's arrival. "You come upon our appointment most stealthily, sir!"

Radu said nothing.

"That is… I mean, naturally you would move with the utmost discretion, a man like you, after all…"

"Boo!" said Chaney. "Come now, Radu. Give the jellyfish a bit of a spook, will you? Humor me, and I'll let you sleep an hour or two tonight."

"It is d-done, then?" said Thuribal. He couldn't hear the ghost's words.

Radu inclined his head slightly.

"Of course it is, of course, of course!"

Thuribal's face was beaded with sweat. He fumbled at his purse and produced a small velvet pouch, which he held out at arm's length. Immediately realizing the rudeness of the gesture, he withdrew it an inch or two for courtesy.

Radu placed his petrified right hand beneath the pouch. Carefully, Thuribal placed it between Radu's curled fingers.

"I assure you, they are of the finest quality, as you required. In the unlikely event you find them wanting-"

"I know where to find you," whispered Radu.

"Er, ehm…"

"Not bad," said Chaney. "Still, I'd like to see him fall down again."

Radu began to withdraw into the shadows.

"Wait!" Thuribal called, stepping forward and slipping in the muck. Chaney almost got his wish. "I, ah, took the liberty of bringing you a new client."

"What?" hissed Radu.

"I know, I know," Thuribal said, hastily waving down Radu's objection in a futile effort to regain his own nerve, "but this is a most special customer, one I am sure you will be glad I brought." He glanced upward and called, "Drakkar?"

A cloaked figured descended slowly through the sewer hole. The top of his deep blue hood was dusted with snow, as were his wide but shallow shoulders. When his feet met the floor, Chaney saw that the man stood as tall as Radu, but his cloak obscured all of his features except for a single brown hand clutching a knotty length of blood-wood. Black thorns studded the crimson surface of the staff, spiraling up from the tip to form a wicked crown of spikes at the head.

"Who's this, then?" asked Chaney.

Radu ignored the ghost's question, as usual. Chaney's gaze fixed upon the shadow beneath the newcomer's hood, and he thought briefly of pushing his own face inside to take a look.

"I thought it would be more convenient for everyone," said Thuribal. "No sense wasting time arranging for another rendezvous, yes?"

The interloper pulled back his cowl. His face was as dark as oiled oak. Fine creases around the black pearls of his eyes spoke of both mirth and cunning. He must have had at least fifty winters, but his hair was as black and wavy as that of any youth. His beard might have been drawn with a pencil, its spare geometry bracketing a strong pointed chin in the Cormyrean fashion.

Drakkar rested his staff in the crook of an elbow and produced a velvet pouch from beneath his cloak. He plucked its strings to reveal the diamonds within.

"I desire a proof," he said.

Radu drew his sword and stepped toward Thuribal.

"What are you doing?" sputtered Thuribal. "I-"

"Oh, no!" said Chaney, clutching his intangible stomach. "You just did one!"

The first thrust came from above. Chaney turned away, but he still heard the sickening clatter as the steel blade smashed Thuribal's teeth. The sword must have severed the man's tongue and jammed it down his throat, for the only sounds Chaney heard from him afterward were muted chokes.

Chaney instantly regretted his earlier wish for Thuribal's misfortune. He sat and hugged his knees.

After the crippling blow, Radu took his time killing the man, far longer than Chaney had observed in any of the man's previous murders.

When the killing blow finally came, Chaney dared to look once more at Radu. The killer had already wiped and sheathed his blade.

Drakkar glanced at what was left of Thuribal. "This is not what I had hoped to see," he said. "I require an irreversible killing."

Radu leaned against the sewer wall. His posture seemed insouciant, but Chaney knew better. He hugged his ghostly knees all the tighter, bracing for what was to come.

The corpse of Thuribal Baerodreemer turned white as ash, clothes and all. Seconds later, it disintegrated into fine powder. Before the stuff could melt into the sewer, a silent wind swirled it up into a grotesque, friable mannequin. Chaney guessed the phantom was invisible to mortal eyes, but there had been no other witness to Radu's previous killings.

None who lived, that was.

As if reading the ghost's mind, Drakkar sketched a shape in the air and ran two fingers over each eyelid. His black pupils flashed viridian, and his eyes widened as he detected the dusty specter.

"Ah," he said in the confident tone of a man who doesn't fully understand what he sees but wishes his audience to think otherwise.

Thuribal's phantom twitched, its hands clawing at the air, head straining to turn away from its killer, mouth yawning wide as its face turned inexorably back toward Radu. Its granular form thickened and flowed, wavered one last time, then cascaded into Radu Malveen.

Radu shuddered and turned his head slowly to the side until his neck popped. With the collar hiding his mouth, the only reaction Chaney and Drakkar could see was the flicker of his black eyes. The three tiny moles beside his left eye briefly converged into one dark blot.

Chaney felt the same bone-hollowing ache that followed each of Radu's murders, and he heard the liquefying howl of the other ghosts join his own involuntary wail. Most of all, he felt the rapturous agony of life suffusing Radu's body, bolstering his unholy continuation.

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