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

“My clothes have lasted me a long time, Master Cray. They may fall apart if washed.”

“I have extra clothing in my saddlebags. It will fit you well enough, I think, if you need it.”

Sepwin stared at him, one-eyed. “Why do you offer me such favors, Master Cray? First the horse, now clothing…”

“I have plenty of clothing, Master Feldar. And you could not travel with me on foot, after all.”

“I don’t understand.”

Cray shrugged. “I grew up… alone… except for my mother. I had all the clothing I wanted, all the food, all the toys. There was a pony when I was old enough to ride it, and later Gallant here. My mother never denied me. But I never had a human friend. It was a long time before I realized that I wanted one.” He smiled at Sepwin. “Now you are my friend. If I can give you a few small presents, what is the harm in that? It is no sacrifice for me to give you a horse and clothing. I can hunt excellently, I can weave a shelter from the weather if I must; I have no real need of my little silver save for luxuries. So I choose the luxury of a friend.”

“I never had a friend either,” said Sepwin, and his fingers brushed the bandage over his eye.

Cray’s brows knit, and then he pointed to Sepwin’s face. “Didn’t you have the other eye covered before?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose not. But… isn’t that patch uncomfortable?”

“I am used to it, Master Cray.”

“But you must be frequently among people, and half blind. Do you never tire of having one eye covered? Do you never peek out from under the bandage, to see with both eyes?”

“I try not to, Master Cray. A one-eyed beggar, even if both of his eyes are the same color, dares not be seen as a fraud. This is my livelihood, or was until I met you. People haven’t near so much pity for a beggar without ills.”

Cray nodded slowly.

“I am ready now; shall we go on?”

The thin plume of smoke they had seen rising from the hut actually came from a small fire built behind the structure. An old man sat close by the flames, feeding small twigs to them while a pot of porridge bubbled in the heat. He seemed not to notice his visitors until they came quite close, and then he jumped up and backed a few steps away, bowing jerkily.

“Your pardon, sirs,” he said in a loud voice. “I did not hear you approach. Your pardon!”

“Good day,” said Cray. “We are travelers on the road with a long journey both behind and ahead of us, and one of our horses has gone lame. We were wondering if we might stay here today and perhaps tomorrow, until he is fit to travel again.”

“Eh?” said the old man. He cupped a hand to his right ear. “My hearing isn’t what it used to be. You must speak loudly.”

Cray repeated his request, and the man bobbed another bow. “Oh, stay, stay if you like,”

he said. “I haven’t guested a traveler in many a year. Many, many a year. You’re more than welcome to share my poor fare, though it is only yesterday’s porridge.” He smiled, showing a toothless jaw.

“A hot meal,” muttered Sepwin.

“I’ll hunt,” said Cray softly. “The rain will hold off for a while yet. He probably doesn’t eat meat very often.”

“Meat? He can’t chew meat without teeth.”

“We can make soup from some of it for him then. Or do you want porridge?”