"Jude Fisher - Fool's Gold 01 - Sorcery Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fisher Jude)

"To get away from all that. Sanctuary, I named this place, and sanctuary it is. You
should thank me for bringing you here and saving you from all that greed and horror." He
sighed. "It all decays and falls away, boy: life, love, magic. There's nothing worth saving in
the end. May as well break it all up, let nature take its course."
Rahe gave the levers a vicious twist, and images of the stronghold tumbled around the
bowl: Virelai watched as a view of the kitchens was replaced by one of the ornamental
lake with its ice swans and statuary, which in turn was displaced by a vista of the inner
courtyard, then by a maze of corridors. A moment later there was a sudden blaze of gold
amid the cheerless grays of the ice walls and he caught a glimpse of a naked woman, her
long pale back all rosy in the candlelight, a swathe of silver-blonde hair veiling the curve
of her buttocks as she slept—on the Master's bed—
Rahe swore, pulled a cord, and abruptly plunged the chamber into darkness once
more.
Virelai, about to question the mage as to the identity of this miracle, was distracted by
the sense of something unfamiliar stirring in his breeches. He reached down to investigate
and was horrified to find that a previously innocent part of his anatomy had become hard
and misshapen. Alarmed, he pushed it away between his legs, but the image of the
woman returned again and again, so that no matter what he did the offending item sprang
back up, throbbing and insistent.
It plagued him all day as he went about his tasks; that naked flesh, his unruly member.
But what plagued him worst of all was the realization that there was a world out
there—other people, other places, endless possibilities—and that Rahe had kept it from
him, as if he owned no more life or will than any other of the mage's exhibits. He felt like
apparatus in one of the Master's experiments, stuffed full with volatile substances, ready
to explode at any minute.
As soon as he was able, he made his way back to the secret tower room, counting
every step: third turn out of the east corridor, fifty-nine paces, then the hidden door;
followed by the one hundred and sixty-eight winding ice stairs. He had memorized the
route with grim determination, even though on the way there and back he had felt the
Master try to maze his mind. It took him some time to understand the workings of the
levers, but soon, in a fever of excitement, he found himself able to conjure all manner of
images of Elda, and he fed upon them until he was dizzy and intoxicated. At last he turned
his attention back to the matter of the woman he had glimpsed in the Master's chamber,
but no matter how delicately he manipulated the pulleys, he could find no sign of her.
He was just about to abandon his attempt when he came upon a view of Rahe himself
standing in the middle of the hearth of the great hall with his robes on fire.
Poisonously-colored smokes billowed up from floor to ceiling. It was an arresting sight.
Virelai held the lever still and watched. On the rug before the fireplace sat Bëte, her head
cocked, her green eyes wide, studying the old man intently as with a great shout (though
no sound reached Virelai) the mage flung wide his arms. The smoke, which had been
escaping lazily along the beams to collect in the hollows of the roof, was sucked suddenly
backward into the Master's mouth, leaving only a few tendrils of purple and green to wisp
gently from the old man's nostrils.
Virelai frowned.
An instant later, the cat was in the Master's arms and nose to nose with him. The mage
opened his mouth and, a distorted mirror image, Bëte did likewise. As if triggered by this
action, smoke began to pour from man to animal until at last the cat's eyes flared once
with fiery light. Then she leaped down from his arms, made herself comfortable once
more on the hearthrug, and began to groom her posterior with overstated care.
Rahe stepped out of the fireplace, leaving behind him embers as cold and black as