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

“Spinweb is mine,” Delivev said, smiling. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast.”

“It was excellent, my lady, most excellent.”

“I trust your journey was not too arduous?”

“It was most interesting. I have never ridden such a steed before.”

She laughed lightly. “I suspect that no one has. I hadn’t thought of making one before.”

She half-turned, lifting one hand toward him. “Come see the garden, Master Lorien.” He moved to obey, and she added, “And bring your lute, of course. What is a troubadour without his music?”

“Yes, yes, my lady. On the instant.” He clutched the instrument by its short neck and followed her down the stairs. “I think you must be a mighty wizard,” he said as they descended.

“I am.” She glanced at him over one shoulder. “But I mean you no harm.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Have you never visited a sorcerer’s castle, Master Lorien?”

“Never. I understood that they care little for music.”

“Who told you that?”

“Why… I don’t know. It’s common knowledge, isn’t it?”

“Common knowledge among ignorant folk, perhaps. We like music as well as ordinary mortals do.”

“You have no other purpose in bringing me here… than to listen to my music?”

“What other purpose do you think I might have?”

He hesitated, lagging a little behind her. “I am only a troubadour,” he said. “My imagination does not stretch so far.”

She laughed again. “Oh, come along, don’t be afraid.”

“I am not afraid,” he said staunchly, “else I would never have heeded your call.”

On the ground floor they crossed the main corridor, passed through a series of arching portals, and stepped into the garden. Early sunlight splashed one corner of the open area; the rest was still shaded by the surrounding castle walls, cool and dew-decked. Delivev went to a pair of pale stone benches set in the sunshine, and she seated herself on one of them, gesturing him to the other.

“Play something for me,” she said.

He laid the lute upon his lap. “Have you some preference?”

“Do you have a song of travel to far lands? Of eternal wandering? Of impossible quests?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, something of the sort, my lady.”

“I will listen.”