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

“I don’t doubt it. Fear, I’m sure, is a potent force for evil.”

“I am fortunate, then,” Sepwin said, a slow grin curving his mouth, “that you have no fear.” He touched the shoulder of his shirt, one of Cray’s clean linen shirts. His trews, too, were Cray’s. His old clothes, save for the worn cloak and sandals, had been thrown away; as predicted, they had not survived washing.

Cray folded his arms across his chest. “I have fears, Master Feldar, but I don’t fear nonsense. And I don’t fear magic, as you should not.”

“It’s easy to fear what one doesn’t understand,” said Sepwin.

Cray gestured up at the sky. “Do you fear the sun because you don’t understand what keeps it aloft? Do you fear clouds, rain, the moon and stars?”

“But these are natural things,” said Sepwin.

“As is magic.”

“Not to me. I know that the sun will rise in the east and set in the west, and the moon and stars, too. I know that clouds float across the sky and sometimes loose rain, which falls down and makes me wet. But magic…”

“Magic is a tool,” said Cray. “Like fire. Human beings make fire serve them, and they do the same with magic. One must treat the sorcerer with respect, as one would a man with a blazing torch in his hands. Each is in a position to do harm, but neither will attack the innocent.” He frowned slightly, then added, “Unless, of course, he is mad.”

“Of course,” echoed Sepwin. “Tell me, Master Cray,. are there many mad sorcerers about in the world?”

“I’ve heard of one or two.”

“Only one or two?”

“How many would you expect? How many mad ordinary mortals do you know of?”

“Quite a few, Master Cray. Quite a few. There was a whole village went mad some years back, joined hands and went dancing across the countryside, every man, woman, and child. Except the youngest, who stayed behind in their cradles.”

“What happened to them?”

“The babies? They starved, for their parents never came back.”

“And the others?”

“They danced till they dropped,” said Sepwin. “It took days, and whether it was hunger, thirst, or exhaustion that finally ended them all, I don’t know. There’s a road south of here lined with their graves— the local inhabitants buried each dancer where he or she died and marked their headstones with a sign to ward off evil. They said it was sorcery.”

Cray shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what sort of magic could do that.”

“There was an old woman they offended,” said Sepwin. “She passed through their

village and no one would give her hospitality because she was so very ugly. It’s said that she laid a curse on them.”

“Who said it?”

“Who?” Sepwin pursed his lips. “Well… I don’t know. Someone from the village, I suppose, before he died. I heard the tale from a blacksmith.”

“You never saw any of the dancers?”

“No, it happened a long time ago. Maybe before I was born.“