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.But so prized are the weapons that once theword goes around that the owner has died (which it does with remarkableswiftness) the Brotherhood is quick to act.All is done quietly,circumspectly.Very often grieving family members are surprised by the suddenappearance of strangers at their door.The strangers enter the house(sometimes before the body is cold) and leave almost immediately.Usually anobject leaves with them the black coffer.To facilitate the passing on of valuable weapons, members of the Brotherhoodare urged to keep such weapons in a plain black box.This has become known asthe black coffer.It is thus natural that the repository for such weapons inthe Brotherhood's fortress should have become known in capital letters as theBlack Coffer.If a member requests the use of a weapon kept in the Black Coffer, he or shemust explain in detail the need and pay a fee proportionate to the weapon'spower.Ciang has the final say on who gets what weapons, as well as the priceto be paid.Standing before the door of the Black Coffer, Ciang inserted the iron key intothe lock and turned it.The lock clicked.Grasping the handle of the heavy iron door, she pulled.Hugh was ready toassist her if she asked, but the door, revolving on silent hinges, swungeasily at her light touch.All was dark inside."Bring a lamp," Ciang ordered.Hugh did so, catching up a glowlamp that stood on a table near the door,probably for this very purpose.Hugh lit the lamp, and the two entered thevault.It was the first time Hugh the Hand had ever been inside the Black Coffer.(Hehad always taken pride in the fact that he had never needed enhancedweaponry.) He wondered why he was being accorded this honor now.Few memberswere ever permitted inside.When a weapon was needed, Ciang either fetched itherself or sent the Ancient to do so.Hugh entered the enormous stone-lined vault with quiet step and subdued heart.The lamp drove the shadows back but could not banish them.A hundred lampswith the brightness of Solarus could not banish the shadow that hung over thisroom.The tools of death created their own darkness.Their numbers were inconceivable.They rested on tables, reclined against thewalls, were sheltered beneath glass cases.It was too much to take in all atone glance.The light flashed off the blades of knives and daggers of every conceivableshape and type, arranged in a vast, ever expanding circle a sort of metalsunburst.Pikes and poleaxes and spears stood guard around the walls.Longbowsand short were properly displayed, each with a quiver of arrows, undoubtedlythe famous elven exploding arrows so feared by human soldiers.Rows ofshelving contained bottles and vials, small and large, of magical potions andpoisons all neatly labeled.Hugh walked past one case filled with nothing but rings: poison rings,snake-tooth rings (containing a tiny needle tipped with snake venom), andmagical rings of all sorts, from rings of charming (which grant the user powerover the victim) to rings of warding (which protect the user against rings ofcharming).Every item in the Black Coffer was documented, labeled in both the human andelven (and, in certain rare cases, dwarven) languages.Words to magicalspells should any be needed were recorded.The value of it all wasincalculable.Hugh's mind boggled.Here was stored the true wealth of theBrotherhood, worth far more than all the barls and jewels of the elven andhuman royal treasuries combined.Here was death and the means to deal it.Herewas fear.Here was power.Ciang led the way through the veritable maze of shelves, cabinetry, and cases,to an unimportant-looking table shunted off to a distant corner of the room.Only one object rested on that table, an object hidden under a cloth thatmight once have been black but, covered with dust, looked gray.The tableappeared to be chained to the wall by thick cobwebs.No one had ventured near this table in a long, long time."Set the lamp down," Ciang told him.Hugh obeyed, placing the lamp on a case containing a vast assortment ofblow-darts.He looked curiously at the cloth-covered object, thinking therewas something strange about it, but not certain what."Look at it closely," Ciang ordered, echoing his thought.Hugh did so, bending cautiously near it.He knew enough about magical weaponsto respect this one.He would never touch it or anything pertaining to ituntil its proper use had been carefully explained one reason Hugh the Hand hadalways preferred not to rely on such weapons.A good steel blade hard andsharp is a tool you can trust.Hugh straightened, frowning, tugging on the braided strands of beard danglingfrom his chin."You see?" Ciang asked, almost as if she were testing him."Dust and cobwebs over everything else, but no dust or cobwebs anywhere on theobject itself," Hugh replied.Ciang breathed a soft sigh, regarded him almost sadly."Ah, there are not manylike you, Hugh the Hand.Quick eye, quick hand.A pity," she ended coolly.Hugh said nothing.He could offer no defense, knew that none was invited.Hestared hard at the object beneath the cloth, could make out the shape by thefact that dust lay all around it but not over it a dagger with a remarkablylong blade."Put your hand on it," Ciang said."You may do so safely," she added, seeingthe flash in Hugh's eye.Hugh held his fingers gingerly above the object.He wasn't afraid, but he wasloath to touch it, as one is loath to touch a snake or a hairy spider.Tellinghimself it was just a knife (yet wondering why it was covered with a blackcloth), he rested his fingertips on it.Startled, he jerked his hand back.Hestared at Ciang."It moved!"She nodded, unperturbed."A quivering.Like a live thing.Barely felt, yetstrong enough to shake off the dust of centuries, strong enough to disturb theweb-weavers.Yet it is not alive, as you will see.Not alive as we know life,"she amended.She plucked away the black cloth.The dust that caked the edges flew up,formed a nose-tickling cloud that caused them both to back off, wiping thegrime and the horrible clinging wispy sensation of cobweb from face and hands.Beneath the cloth an ordinary metal dagger.The Hand had seen farbetter-crafted weapons.In shape and design, it was exceedingly crude, mighthave been made by some smith's child, attempting to learn his parent's craft.The hilt and crosspiece were forged of iron that appeared to have been beateninto shape while it was cooling.The marks of each hammer blow were plain onboth hilt and crosspiece.The blade was smooth, perhaps because it was made of steel, for it was brightand shiny in contrast to the hilt's dull finish.The blade had been affixed tothe hilt with molten metal, the traces of soldering plain to see.The onlythings that made this knife at all remarkable were the strange symbols etchedon the blade.The symbols were not the same as yet they were reminders of theone traced on Hugh's chest."The rune-magic," said Ciang, her bony finger hovering above, carefully nottouching the blade."What does the thing do?" Hugh asked, regarding the weapon with disdainmingled with disgust."We do not know," Ciang answered.Hugh raised aneyebrow, regarded her questioningly.She shrugged."The last brother to use itdied.""I can understand why." Hugh grunted."Trying to go up against a mark using akid's toy."Ciang shook her head."You do not understand [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]