"David Gerrold - The Flying Sorcerers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gerrold David)

One of the hill shepherds, it seemed, had come running into town, panic-
stricken and shouting something about a new magician. By the time I got this
information out of Pilg, we were already at the village clearing where the
frightened shepherd was leaning against one of the great housetrees, gasping
out his story to a nervous group of men. They pressed in close to him,
badgering him with questions. Even the women had paused in their work, and
hanging back at a respectful distance, listened fearfully to the shepherd's
words.
"A new magician," he gasped. "A red one! I saw him!" Someone handed him a
skin; he sucked the Quaff from it noisily, then panted, "Near the cairn of the
wind-god. He was throwing red fire across the mountains."
"Red fire. Red fire."
The villagemen murmured excitedly among themselves. "If he throws red fire, he
must be a red magician." Almost immediately, I heard the word "duel'. The
women must have heard it too, for they gasped and shrank back from the milling
group of men.
I pushed my way through to the center of the crowd. "Ah, Lant," said one of
the men. "Have you heard? There's going to be a duel."
"Is there?" I demanded. "Have you seen the runes of the duel inscribed across
Shoogar's nest?"
"No, but-"
"Then how do you know there's going to be a duel?"
"A red magician-" gasped the shepherd. "A red magician-"
"Nonsense. No red magician could have the powers you describe. Why don't you
wait until you know something definite before you start spreading silly rumors
that frighten women and children?"
"You know Shoogar as well as we! As soon as he discovers there is a new
magician in the district, he'll-"
"You mean Shoogar doesn't know yet?"
The man looked blank.
I raised my voice. "Has anyone thought to tell Shoogar ?"
Silence. No one had. My duty was clear. I must prevent Shoogar from doing
something rash. I hurried through the trees toward the magician's nest.
Shoogar's nest was well suited for a wizard, a squat misshapen gourd hung from
a forbidding black ogre of a tree well beyond the limits of the village. (The
Guild of Advisors was afraid to let him move closer; he was always
experimenting with new spells.)
I found Shoogar already packing his travel kit. His agitated manner told me he
was worried. Then I caught a glimpse of what he was packing and I was worried.
The last time he had used that ornate bone-carved tarinele was when he had
hurled the curse of the itching red boils at Hamel the Failure.
I saw what he was packing in on top of the tarinele and I flinched. "I believe
that's against the Guild rules," I said.
For a moment I thought he'd hurl a spell at me. I cringed and instinctively
made a spell-cutting gesture, (forgetting for the moment that Shoogar himself
had made the protective amulets I wore; he couldn't possibly break through his
own protections; at least not for a few more days -- they would expire with
the coming of the blue dawns).
"You!" he snapped. "What do you know of magic? You who call yourself my
friend! You didn't even have the courtesy to inform me of this intruding