"L. E. Modesitt - Recluce 07 - The magic Engineer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

XIII

THE CHILL BREEZE riffles through the youth's hair, and, to the east, when the wind dies, he can
hear the winter waves crashing on the eastern shore. In his left hand is a small length of spruce,
in his right, a knife.
Whiicckk, whiccckk. . .
The low clouds seethe, grayness.moving within and around grayness, but no rain has fallen since
they rolled over the Academy after the second bell.
"Hello..."
At the sound of the bright voice, he looks up.
Kadara, wearing the faded blue of her heavy exercise clothes, stands by the black stone wall
where he sits. "Carving again?"
"I don't have a forge, and I get tired of reading all these theoretical arguments about the
basis of order and the inherent conflict between . . ." He flicks off another bit of wood. "I
still don't believe that machines and metals are the tools of chaos ..."
Kadara grins. "They aren't. A sword is a tool, and they teach us bladework. Woodcrafters use
saws and chisels." She brushes a wisp of the short hair back over her right ear.
Dorrin looks into the blue eyes of the redheaded girl he has known ever since he can remember.
"It's just the complex ones, anything that might use something besides water or muscles to
operate." He opens his hand. "See?"
Kadara frowns at the object which resembles three carved triangles joined at one end. "What is
that?"
"This? It's a fan, a mechanical one. I got the idea from a drawing showing the Imperial Court
at Hamor. This is just the blade, but if you put a handle here, and ran it through something like
an axle hoop, you could turn it with your hand. If you put a simple gear here ..."
"Dorrin ..."
"Sorry. I know-you half-believe that garbage about machines." He lowers the carving.
"I'm going to the practice hall. Do you want to come? Gelisel says-"
"I know. I need more practice. A beggarman does better with a staff, and I make a one-armed,
white-haired bandit look like a master blade."
Kadara shrugs her broad shoulders. "Practice would help, Dorrin."
"I know." He sheathes the knife, rucking the length of spruce into the pack lying on the stone
beside him.. "I know."
"What are you working on?"
"Just an idea."
"I won't tell anyone."
"Even Brede?"
"Dorrin." The lilt leaves her voice.
"Sorry . . .but Brede . .."
"Brede is a good person. He'd never say anything. It's not as though I'd tell him anyway. He
feels everyone should do what they want as long as no one gets hurt." Her stride lengthens as the
paved stone walk steepens. "But don't ask me to keep things from him."
"I'm sorry." Dorrin takes a deep breath. "It's just that Lortren ... well, she's not very happy
about my toys."
"Toys?"
"That's what she calls them."
"Hmmmm ... I hadn't thought of that."
Dorrin has to stretch his legs to keep up with Kadara, though she is only slightly taller than
he is. "Thought of what?"
"Why don't you just make toys?"