"Niven, Larry - Not Long Before the End" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

He dropped his arm back and lay looking at the sky.
* * * *
Presently the blue was blotted by a shadow.
"I told you to get out of here," he whispered.
"You should have known better. What's happened to you?"
"No more youth spells. I knew I'd have to do it when the prognostics spell showed blank." He drew a ragged breath. "It was worth it. I killed Glirendree."
"Playing hero, at your age! What can I do? How can I help?"
"Get me down the hill before my heart stops. I never told you my true age -- "
"I knew. The whole village knows." She pulled him to sitting position, pulled one of his arms around her neck. It felt dead. She shuddered, but she wrapped her own arm around his waist and gathered herself for the effort. "You're so thin! Come on, love. We're going to stand up." She took most of his weight onto her, and they stood up.
"Go slow. I can hear my heart trying to take off."
"How far do we have to go?"
"Just to the foot of the hill, I think. Then the spells will work again, and we can rest." He stumbled. "I'm going blind," he said.
"It's a smooth path, and all downhill."
"That's why I picked this place. I knew I'd have to use the disc someday. You can't throw away knowledge. Always the time comes when you use it, because you have to, because it's there."
"You've changed so. So -- so ugly. And you smell."
The pulse fluttered in his neck, like a hummingbird's wings. "Maybe you won't want me, after seeing me like this."
"You can change back, can't you?"
"Sure. I can change to anything you like. What color eyes do you want?"
"I'll be like this myself someday," she said. Her voice held cool horror. And it was fading: he was going deaf.
"I'll teach you the proper spells, when you're ready. They're dangerous. Blackly dangerous."
She was silent for a time. Then: "What color were _his_ eyes? You know, Belhap Sattlestone whatever."
"Forget it," said the Warlock, with a touch of pique.
And suddenly his sight was back.
But not forever, thought the Warlock as they stumbled through the sudden daylight. When the _mana_ runs out, I'll go like a blown candle flame, and civilization will follow. No more magic, no more magic-based industries. Then the whole world will be barbarian until men learn a new way to coerce nature, and the swordsmen, the damned stupid swordsmen, will win after all.

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