A Crown Imperilled. Raymond E. Feist

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      Despite the odd musings created by memories that were at once familiar yet new, the attention of the two demons-turned-human was drawn to the south, where the afternoon sky was thick with smoke clouds above the city.

      The wagon slowed and the driver turned and said, ‘Looks like Ylith has fallen.’

      Miranda said, ‘There may be fires, but that doesn’t mean it’s fallen. If the gates had been breached, we’d see a flood of retreating people streaming past us now.’

      ‘Well, I’m going to wait and see. No risk in pausing,’ said the old teamster, ‘but a lot of risk in blundering forward.’

      Miranda jumped down from the back of the wagon and saw that the other teams in the small caravan had also pulled over to the verge of the road. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said the demon in human form. ‘We’ll wander down and take a look and if we don’t come back …’ She saw the face of Nakor grinning. ‘Assume the worst.’

      They set off down the road at quick pace and when they were out of earshot, Nakor laughed loudly. ‘Assume the worst?’

      ‘Well, I wasn’t going to tell him we weren’t coming back, and if he wants to sit there waiting for someone to blow the all-clear, he’s picked the wrong trade.’

      They moved rapidly, their demonic strength and endurance extant under their human appearance. Miranda and Nakor, as they now thought of themselves, had no idea why they were here, even if they knew Kalkin was behind their existence. But they trusted that it was for a reason and an important one, and they knew that to uncover that reason, the most logical place to begin was where the most powerful practitioners of magic resided: Sorcerer’s Isle.

      Moreover, though she said nothing to Nakor, Miranda ached to see her family. In her memory she had just withstood a brutal demon attack on her home and had successfully driven them off with her husband, son, and the other magicians when a wounded demon had leapt from feigned death and ripped out half of her neck, causing almost instantaneous death. The shock of the attack had made the details vague and since Nakor had died before the invasion, she had no witness with whom to speak. She didn’t know if her husband had survived, though she counted it likely, nor how her children fared. She needed to know, and it was slowly becoming an overwhelming urge.

      Within minutes of leaving the woodlands, they started down a gentle sloping road and could clearly see the city. The fire appeared to rage beyond the city, perhaps on the docks or through some ships near the quayside, for although a canopy of smoke hung over Ylith, no pillars of soot and ash rose within the walls. Still, the defenders of the city were vigilant, and as Miranda and Nakor approached the gate, they were challenged from the wall.

      ‘Who’s there?’ The voice sounded very young and not terribly confident.

      ‘Travellers,’ answered Miranda. She glanced at Nakor who grinned at her statement of the obvious. ‘Who seek shelter.’

      ‘The gates are to stay shut. Commander’s orders.’

      ‘We’re hardly an invading force from Kesh,’ said Miranda.

      ‘He looks Keshian,’ said the owner of the high-pitched voice, now obviously a boy wearing an ill-fitting helm as he leaned out between two merlons to point at Nakor.

      ‘I travel a lot!’ shouted Nakor, his grin widening.

      Miranda said, ‘This may prove difficult.’

      ‘You want to just leap up there?’ asked the short gambler.

      Miranda looked dubious. ‘I might be able to, but could you?’

      ‘I’m more nimble than I look,’ said Nakor, his grin fading as if she had hurt his feelings. Then the smile returned. ‘Besides, it would terrify the boy.’

      Looking up at the downturned face above them, Miranda shouted, ‘When will the commander order the gates open to travellers?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ answered the boy. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to arrive and tell him what to do.

      ‘Why don’t you run off and find someone to ask?’ said Miranda, and the boy nodded and vanished from sight.

      ‘I was about to say that,’ said Nakor with a relieved expression.

      Glancing around, Miranda wrapped her arms around her as if chilled, though the air was balmy. ‘It’s so difficult at times.’

      Nakor nodded. ‘I think the longer we abide in this realm, the more these memories will begin to feel like our true ones, and the memories we have of our home realm will fade to nothing.’

      Miranda nodded. ‘I sometimes struggle to remember being Child.’ She looked for a moment at Nakor, once Belog the Archivist of King Dahun, Demon Lord of one of the five most powerful realms in the Fifth Plane of existence. ‘My earliest recollections of my mother, and even those of meeting you, are fading and becoming dream-like.’

      Nakor grinned. ‘One thing remains constant: no matter the realm in which we find ourselves, or what manner of being we become, life will be a struggle.’ He shrugged. ‘That, in its own way at least, is reassuring.’

      ‘What you told me—’ She shook her head as if struggling to find the correct context. ‘What Nakor’s memories …’ She sighed in resignation. ‘What you told me in the Dasati realm about Miranda’s father, do you think that will happen to us?’

      Nakor cocked his head slightly as if pondering the thought for a moment, then said, ‘If you mean do I think we shall die once our purpose here is over … ?’ Again he shrugged. ‘I can only speculate. There are differences. From what Pug and I surmised, Macros’s memories were overlaid on a dying Dasati, and his life extended through the Trickster God’s intercession, but the Dasati was verging on death already. We on the other hand, despite our appearances, are still demons in the prime of our power, thanks to your generosity in our home realm.’

      ‘You mean in not devouring you?’

      ‘Among other things,’ said Nakor with a widening grin. ‘It is the nature of our race to view most things as a struggle, combat or a transaction, but now that we have all these human memories and emotions … I remember … The last thing Nakor thought was how interesting his life was.’ The grin broadened. ‘And that, I must say, was an understatement.’ For an instant the grin faded. ‘If only all of these humans understood how wondrous their lives could be … This being that I’m becoming, this Nakor, had amazing travels and experiences. The people he knew and … loved.’ He was silent for a moment, then said, ‘What a powerful thing that is: love. I think Dahun attempted to engender that in our people; I think that is why your mother gladly gave her life for yours.’

      Miranda’s head tilted to one side slightly, the one remaining gesture that was purely Child’s.

      ‘From my – Belog’s – point of view, I have been given the gift of another’s lifetime, the feelings, experiences, knowledge … From Nakor’s point of view, his life just got more interesting. I’m sure we have a purpose.’ He narrowed his gaze and said, ‘Kalkin may be many things, but even the gods СКАЧАТЬ