"Barbara Hambly - Sun Wolf 2 - Witches of Wenshar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

over it time and again, Galdron. It's scarcely likely that your
condemnation of my powers one more time will cause me to go against
what I know to be my destiny and my duty."
"It is scarcely likely," agreed the little man mildly, "but, as Bishop
of Wenshar and, therefore responsible for the salvation of your soul
from the sulfurous hells reserved for witches, I can yet hope."
The answer was so pat that Sun Wolf was barely able to stifle a
snort of laughter; Kaletha's eye flicked to him, like a chilly draft, and
then away again. If wishes were horses, Sun Wolf thought wryly,
there'd be hoofprints all over my hide ...
"Excuse me, Commander, Captain," the Bishop said, as Kaletha
turned and crossed the dais to the doorway of the King's solar. "I
should probably be present when she attends to the King."
"I take it she's the only sawbones you could get?" the Wolf asked,
as the Bishop, like a glittering little doll, hastened to follow the tall,
red-haired woman through the door. In the hall before them, things
were quieting down. The gray-haired hag, in the midst of a gaggle of
grooms and laundresses, was recounting some story to snickers of
ribald laughter. The Trinitarian novice, Sun Wolf observed, had in truth
had no other business-he was still hanging around the archways into the
vestibule, talking with two others of Kaletha's disciples: a fattish boy of
sixteen or so and a thin, worried-looking young woman, both dressed,
like Kaletha and Anshebbeth, in black.
"On the contrary," Nanciormis said, sipping the wine the servant
had left and offering Sun Wolf the hammered bowl of dates. "Kaletha's
only recently come to that position, in the absence of anything better.
Since she's decided she's going to be a wizard, she evidently considers
it a part of her much-vaunted 'destiny.' But she's always been part of
the Household."
"Has she?" the Wolf asked thoughtfully. It would account, he
thought, for that bitter defensiveness. It was said that no prophet was
without honor except in their own home village. Even he, when he'd
announced to his former mercenary troops on his brief visit to Wrynde
that spring that he'd become a wizard, had at least done so after going
away and coming back. The Wizard King Altiokis had brooked no
competition; Kaletha could not have so much as hinted at her powers
while he was still alive. She'd had to announce it cold, to people who'd
known her all her life. His too-ready imagination framed the notion of
claiming wizardy in the village where he'd been raised, and his soul
cringed from the thought.
Nanciormis shrugged casually. "She was lady-in-waiting to my
sister, Osgard's wife, the Lady Ciannis. When Ciannis died, Osgard
kept her on in the Household as librarian, since she had a turn for it. It
wasn't until news came of the Wizard King's death that she declared
herself to be mageborn and began to teach others."
He laughed, shortly and scornfully. "Not that anything's ever come
of it that I've been able to see. Oh, she claims to be able to teach
magic, but who are her disciples? A lot of soured spinsters and
frustrated virgins who haven't anything better to do with their lives."
"You don't believe her power's real, then?" It must have been the