"P. N. Elrod - Adventures Of Myhr" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

CHAPTER ONE
Some place like Kansas, only not as hilly.
"I wish," I said, puffing hard because we were running flat out. "I really, really wish. You would. Develop
your. People skills."

"Bite me," said Terrin, also puffing hard.

I'd have rolled my eyes, but needed to watch where we were going. It was midnight, with a
lightning-shot sky dumping rain on us like daggers. Despite this, there were a number of very angry locals
hot behind us, either a lynch mob or anauto-da-fé , which I think is Latin for barbeque. The crowd
supplied themselves for either possibility, having brought along both torchesand ropes.

No shoddy workmanship for Terrin, who is a wizard. When he decided to piss a person off he always
put a two hundred percent effort into it. On this occasion, for reasons best known to himself, he caused a
bouquet of purple daisies to sprout out of the bald head of the town's mayor. Bad enough, but they'd
been infested with some kind of bugs that gave the man an attack of amazingly ugly hives.

Unfortunately for us, the mayor was popular and had an army of very large relatives all intent on
avenging the family honor.

The thunder cracking overhead and the hiss of falling water kept me from hearing how close pursuit
might be. As I had the better eyesight after dark, I led the way, hoping to find some spot where Terrin
and I could go to ground for a minute so he could get us out. His traveling crystals had been charged up
for weeks, but times had been pretty good on this stopover, so we'd put off leaving.

I had only a sketchy idea of the lay of the land here. We'd left the town in a random direction, striking off
over ice rink-flat farm country. No matter where we went, we'd be seen.

"House," I said, pointing to a humped building with a thatched roof, the only thing in running range that
might provide a temporary refuge.

"Okay." Terrin was shorter, but more than able to keep up as I tore over the ground, my boots making
muddy salad of whatever crop the field held.

No lights showed ahead. At this hour any sensible farmer would be tucked away in bed having a good
snooze through the storm, which is what I'd be doing now if Terrin hadn't wanted to make a spectacular
magical point. Couldn't he have just given the mayor a little tummy ache instead? I hate those.
 The house turned out to be a barn. Good. Then we wouldn't have to deal with yet another irate local
trying to kill us. One mob was more than enough. We ripped around and found a door, dragging it open.

Inside, I curled my lip at the sudden stink of damp livestock, then violently shook water from my soaked
mane. My rust-colored fur would either droop or be sticking out in clumpy spikes all over my head, but
corrective grooming would have to wait. "How soon?"

Terrin was wheezing hard, but already shrugging off his oversize backpack. "Gimme a minute."

I knew the drill; it would take longer than that for him to set up. We needed something to block the door
in case the mayor's relatives turned out to be marathon runners. Some bales of hay were stacked neatly
against one wall. I grabbed one in each hand and hauled them over. A few mice got dislodged. My ears
swiveled to track their scattered retreat, and I had to repress an urge to lunge. Not that I'm into chasing