"DeChancie,.John.-.Castle.07.-.Castle.Spellbound" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dechancie John)

"Hardly practical. Let me see . . ."
"It's tricky, Inky."
Incarnadine nodded. "I see what you mean. Spells here tend to have unexpected consequences."
"All spells spin off unwanted side-effects," Trent said, but here they sometimes run rampant."
"Take this hotel, for instance," Sheila said. "All I wanted to conjure was a hut. And look what I got."
The three of them took in the rococo elegance of Hotel Sheila.
"Remarkable," Incarnadine said. "I don't think I could do as good a job."
"It's not me, it's the magic here."
"It's you," Trent assured her. "You're a sorceress of the first magnitude."
"Well, maybe here I am."
Incarnadine asked, "What've you been up to, Trent?"
Trent accepted a Singapore Sling from one of the bartenders and shrugged. "Not much. Just running this place."
"Like it?"
"Like it fine."
"Don't have a hankering to get back to Earth?"
Trent shook his head. "No. Still have the estate on Long Island, but I've put it in mothballs, pretty much."
"Going to retire here?"
"Hell, I'm only three hundred forty-six years old. Give me a break."
Sheila rolled her eyes. "Only three hundred forty-six, he says. And he doesn't look a day over forty."
"Really?" Trent said, feigning pique. "And here thought I could pass for thirty-five on a good day."
"A young forty," Sheila amended.
Incarnadine persisted. "So what do you want to do with the rest of your allotted three score years and five hundred?"
Trent jerked one shoulder. "Who knows. I'll find something to arouse my interest."
"Want to fight a war?"
"Eh?"
"I'm serious, I've got two on my hands. And although I could contrive, by magical means, of course, to be two places at once, you can't really divide your attentions that way. I need a good strategist, and you're one of the best I know of."
"I don't think I like this," Sheila said.
Incarnadine laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, my dear. He'll be well behind the front lines. In fact, he can do all his operational planning here and messenger orders to the front, through the castle. He'll be quiet safe.",
"Oh," Sheila said. "Well, in that case . . ."
"In other words, I wouldn't have actual command," Trent said.
"I need a plan for a lightning offensive. I want to get the war over quick, very quick. Minimum casualties."
"What's the milieu?"
"Late Bronze Age."
Trent laughed. "Good luck. And here I was thinking laser-guided missiles."
"I'm of a mind that it can be done at any level of technological development."
"Well, I'm of a mind to agree with you, but the strategic situation has to be just right."
"This one is near perfect. We have naval superiority, slightly superior numbers, and better-trained soldiers."
Trent asked, "Then why do you need me, particularly?"
"As I said, I want minimum casualties. What this world lacks is superior military science. Things are fairly primitive on that score. Wars tend to be long and bloody. I want this one to be short and, while I can't hope for zero casualties, I want the body count to be as low as possible."
Trent nodded. "Gotcha. What's the mission objective?"
"Reducing a fortified town near the sea. You won't be able to lay siege immediately, though, because they can field a pretty good army. Once you reduce their numbers, they'll use the town as a redoubt. . . ." Incarnadine smiled. "Do I detect a note of interest?"
Trent half-smiled, "Perhaps you do."
"Well, let's delay the briefing. This is a party, no shoptalk allowed."
"I still don't quite like the idea of Trent fighting a war," Sheila said.
"More like a war game," Trent remarked, "judging from the sound of it. At least it'll be such to me, sitting in my den with maps and unit markers."
"Still . . ." Sheila remained unconvinced.
"Think it over," Incarnadine said. "Let me know. We have some time in that theater. In the other one, things are a bit more critical."
"Oh? What's the milieu there?"
"Muskets and cavalry charges."
"Sounds more like my line of work."