"Feist, Raymond E - Faerie Tale 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

Faerie Tale
by Raymond E. Feist
Version 1.0
#bw release
December 1, 2001

PROLOGUE

MAY

Barney Doyle sat at his cluttered workbench, attempting
to fix Olaf Andersen's ancient power mower for the
fourth time in seven years. He had the cylinder head off
and was judging the propriety of pronouncing last rites
on the machine—he expected the good fathers over at St.
Catherine's wouldn't approve. The head was cracked—
which was why Olaf couldn't get it started—and the cyl-
inder walls were almost paper-thin from wear and a pre-
vious rebore. The best thing Andersen could do would be
to invest in one of those new Toro grass cutters, with all
the fancy bells and whistles, and put this old machine out
to rust. Barney knew Olaf would raise Cain about having
to buy a new one, but that was Olaf's lookout. Barney
also knew getting a dime out of Andersen for making
such a judgment would be close to a miracle. It would be
to the benefit of all parties concerned if Barney could
coax one last summer's labor from the nearly terminal
machine. Barney absently took a sharpener to the blades
while he pondered. He could take one more crack at it.
An oversized cylinder ring might do the trick—and he
could weld the small crack; he'd get back most of the
compression. But if he didn't pull it off, he'd lose both the
time and the money spent on parts. No, he decided at
last, better tell Andersen to make plans for a funeral.

A hot, damp gust of wind rattled the half-open win-
dow. Barney absently pulled the sticky shirt away from
his chest. Meggie McCorly, he thought absently, a smile
coming to his lined face. She had been a vision of beauty
in simple cotton, the taut fabric stretched across ripe,
swaying hips and ample breasts as she walked home from
school each day. For a moment he was struck by a rush
of memories so vivid he felt an echo of lust rising in his

old loins. Barney took out a handkerchief and wiped his
brow. He savored the spring scents, the hot muggy night
smells, so much like those that blew through the
orchards and across the fields of County Wexford. Barney
thought of the night he and Meggie had fled from the
dance, from the crowded, stuffy hall, slipping away unno-