The Last Ring-bearer - Kirill Yeskov [181]
"Bring him up to the Mirror, clofoel of Tranquility, but don't remove the Web just yet…"
Only after uttering these words did the clofoel of the World realize that the Mirror was, indeed, in a bad way. The crystal was ink-black, the blackness lit up by pulses of scarlet light at regular intervals; it felt distinctly like the Mirror was emitting one endless silent scream of terror and pain. Maybe it's not good for it to be close to a palantír? she wondered belatedly. Whatever, can't change anything at this point. Please endure this a bit longer, she thought at the Mirror; this will all be over in a few minutes. As if in response, the crystal almost exploded from inside with a singularly powerful scarlet flash which for some reason reminded her of the Eternal Fire… The thought came and went as other matters occupied her attention: the clofoel of Tranquility had apparently noticed (felt, to be precise) that the room was not as empty as it seemed. According to her plan, that was exactly what he was supposed to do, without any prompting from her. Imagine the irony of relying on one's mortal enemy's intuition and professionalism!
The clofoel of Tranquility had thoroughly scanned the room and saw nothing suspicious, as was to be expected. It's useless to search for anything magically here – the Mirror generates a magical field of such intensity as to drown those of all other objects. A totally empty room and a low 'table' on thin legs… Could I have hidden an object here, a small one? Yes, I could have… sure I could! Wait – a small object? What did the Troll say? "About the size of a child's head!" So that's why you wanted to get up to the Mirror!..
"Clofoel of the World! You're under arrest for treason. Stand against the wall!"
They stood facing each other, the Mirror between them; the clofoel of Tranquility had his sword out – he was not about to give that snake any chances, she was mortally dangerous as it was.
"Unclip the dagger from your belt… now the stiletto in your left sleeve… Kick them away with your foot! Now, we'll talk. The magic object that Star fool's dancers can't find is attached to the bottom of the 'table,' right? One has to drop on all fours before the Mirror to see it – surely no one will think of that. It's impossible to find it magically – the dancers are like a dog that has to find a perfumed handkerchief hidden in a sack of crushed pepper. An excellent idea, my compliments! By the way, what is it?"
"A palantír."
"Whoa!" He apparently never expected that. "Whose gift is it – the Enemy's?"
"No, Aragorn's."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"It's the truth. His Majesty Elessar Elfstone is a farsighted Man, he never puts all his eggs in one basket. You think you're the only who talked to him privately back in January? Get rid of me, and he won't help you in your game against the Lady."
"You're wrong, my dear: the fewer one's allies, the more valuable they become, so he's not going anywhere. You, however, can look forward to a real education under the Mound: the boys there are quite creative, and I'll make sure you won't die too quickly."
"To do that you'll have to offer proof of my treason, which means turning the palantír over to the Council. Would it not be better to keep it and turn me into your agent in the Lady's retinue? I can offer a lot, you know."
"All right, enough talking! Face the wall, now! Sit down on the floor! On the floor, I said! How did you attach