"Sorcerer's Son" - читать интересную книгу автора (Phyllis Eisenstein)

“You will grow to love it, as I have.”

“I would rather go out in the world and earn my bread with strength of arms than conjure it by magic.”

“You think you are ready to go out in the world as a knight? Oh, my son, don’t think your prowess with a wooden sword and a tree make you ready to face a real opponent!”

Again he shook his head. “I know I am not ready. But I would practice here in Spinweb with a real sword, and then I would go out to seek a teacher to better my skills.” He raised his eyes to hers, and his gaze was level with her own though he had not yet reached his full growth. “Mother, this is truly what I want. If you love me, you will help me to be the kind of man I must be.”

She turned away from him. “If I love you, I must lose you—is that what you say? How can you ask it of me?”

“I must go out in the world and meet other human beings.”

“You can see them in the webs.”

“I can see them, but I can’t speak to them. I can’t touch them.”

“You are so young!”

He laid the wooden sword down and stepped close to her to wrap his arms about her. “I will make this promise,” he said. “Give me the sword and the horse and the armor, and I will not leave you for another two years. I will stay here and laugh with you and be a loving son for another two years.”

She leaned against him. “I have no sword and armor. I might find a horse that would suit you, but the choosing of arms should be up to you. I know too little of the matter. All sorcerers know too little of arms.” She hugged him tight. “Oh, my son, you must go to a town where merchants deal in swords and shields, you must ask for advice from men who understand such things. If you had a father, he would instruct you, of course… if you had a father.” Her voice broke and she clasped him ever more fiercely. “How can I bear to lose you, too?”

“Mother, every fledgling must fly from the nest at last.”

“I never flew, not I!”

“Well, this one will.”

She nodded, and tears leaked from her eyes.

Some days later, a vast dark cloud swept out of the east, blocked the sun above Castle Spinweb briefly, then descended, condensing, to the ground before the gate. By the time Cray and Delivev opened the portal, the dark and roiling mist was a sphere no more than ten feet in diameter. At their approach, it oozed back against the nearest trees, exposing the great horse that had been hidden in its depths. The horse whinnied and tossed its head, dancing restlessly on hooves as big as dinner plates, but it allowed the humans to touch it—indeed, it relaxed as their hands moved upon its sleek gray flanks.

“Very good,” Deliver said to the cloud. She nodded toward the open castle gate, and a pair of rolled tapestries cartwheeled out to the grass. They spread themselves flat for the cloud’s inspection, and it seemed satisfied, for it covered them and rose skyward with its new and lighter burden.

“I have never seen a demon yet that would say thank you,” muttered Delivev. “Well, what are you waiting for? This is your horse—take it inside.”

“I had not expected it to be… so large,” said Cray.

“You will be heavy in your armor, my son; it must be large to bear your weight.”

Cray stroked the horse’s neck. “I shall call him Gallant.”

In the misty dawn of a spring day, he saddled Gallant for the journey to the nearest town.

Delivev pressed silver money into his hands, to pay for the arms he wished to buy.

“Don’t flash the coins about,” she warned him. ‘There are some men who would try to take it from you.“

“I shall be careful, Mother. I’ve seen a few things in the webs, after all; I know there are evil folk out there. I have my knife and a stout staff, and no fear of using them.”