"Bud Sparhawk - Magic's Price" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sparhawk Bud)

The magician did not contradict his father's declaration, not directly. “Nevertheless the storms are
coming, but we shall talk of that later. I've come to speak of other things, private things, George
Kettleman.” He gestured with his left hand, a dismissing fluttering of fingers, for the rest of the family to
leave.
 Fear clutched at Jacob's breast and, for a moment, he couldn't breathe. This was the time. Now his
father would receive the dreaded news. Jacob desperately tried to think of how he could avert what must
surely be coming.

“Come Jacob,” his mother called softly as she led Pam and Ev into the kitchen. She glanced back at the
magician with an expression that Jacob had never seen before—apprehension, fear, worry? Did she
suspect that he was the root cause of the discussion? No, that was impossible.

Jacob took one slow step as he furiously tried to devise a delaying strategy, but, when no solution came
to mind, he reluctantly, fearfully, followed the women.

“I'll bet they're talking about you,” Ev said loudly as soon as Jacob shut the door. “I'll bet you messed up
something, just like you always do.”

His mother shook her head. She appeared preoccupied by something. “What? Oh no, I am sure this has
nothing to do with my Jacob. Nothing at all.” That was his mother, always the optimist.

Jacob smiled wanly at her defense, but he knew the bitter truth. He had let his pride take control and
now he would suffer the consequences.

“Weird Jacob. Weird Jacob,” Pam giggled.

“I'd better check the barn just to make sure everything's all right,” he said and, before Ev or Pam could
tease him further, he pulled his cloak from the peg near the door. His mother smiled as he marched into
the dark night. No doubt she thought his departure was due to embarrassment, or did she suspect
something more?

He climbed the ladder to get to the barn's roof as quickly as he could so he wouldn't encounter Tash
Pallas or the dark man. It was better to avoid any further discomfort, he thought. The coming
confrontation with his father would provide more than enough grief this day.

The fields were serene and quiet under the light of the lesser moon. Not that he expected otherwise: His
reasons for coming were not at all related to the possibility that something might be amiss. In the distance
he could just make out the dark form of the tower and its hidden mysteries, the mysteries that he had
hoped to one day discover. But that was not to be. He had surely destroyed any chance he might have
had if he hadn't let his stupid mouth run on without thinking. With those dark thoughts he sat and put his
head in his hands. He felt like his heart would break. What would he ever do with his ruined life?

Long after the house lights dimmed and everyone else had certainly gone to bed, his father climbed the
ladder. “Lonely up here,” he said as he settled beside Jacob.

“Good for thinking,” Jacob answered. “Helps me figure out problems without somebody interrupting.”

His father started to get up. “Sorry, son. Didn't mean to...” Clearly, he had misunderstood.