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

What, Jacob wondered, had so alarmed her? White-beard brushed her hand aside and began striding
purposefully toward them. The dark man with the hidden eyes stayed by his side, one hand still hidden
beneath his cloak, his head still making that constant, sweeping motion.

“Kettleman? Is that your name?” Arthur Thomas asked with authority. When his father nodded the
magician turned and motioned for the woman. “This is Tash Pallas, my, uh, assistant,” he introduced her.
“And the other is Blade, just Blade.”

Arthur Thomas. Jacob was amazed that the old magician should have such an ordinary name. The
woman's name, on the other hand, was mysterious, strange, exotic and quite what one would expect of
someone with magical powers. Blade's name was as menacing as his appearance. A shiver ran through
him. These were obviously people of power.

“I am,” Jacob's father replied to the magician's query, “and this is my son.” He put a protective hand on
Jacob's shoulder and squeezed hard. Jacob wondered why his father was making such a point about him.

Arthur Thomas barely nodded, but said nothing. The lovely Tash was still tugging on his sleeve, trying to
get his attention. The magician was clearly becoming annoyed, for he turned and spit out a string of harsh,
angry syllables in a foreign language.

Tash Pallas replied softly in the same language. Unlike Arthur Thomas’ jarring syllables, her lips
produced a flow of sweet, musical words. Her voice was so sweet that Jacob didn't want her to stop.

Arthur Thomas’ eyebrows rose and he glanced in their direction as Tash Pallas spoke. Only when she
finished did he speak. “I think we shall stay here overnight to see what services the town might need.
After our work here is finished we'll want to examine the tower. I would appreciate it if you could
accommodate us. We will pay or even work for our keep, if necessary.”

Jacob felt a thrill run through him. Magicians, three of them, were going to come to his farm. He would
be able to watch them, talk to them, and be with them. It was more than he could have hoped for, more
than he had ever expected. Come what may, he would never forget this priceless moment.

But his father hadn't answered. He was staring at the magician in stony silence, taking the measure of the
man.

“George,” mother said as she lay a hand on Jacob's shoulder. “George.” There was a note in her voice
that Jacob had not heard before.

His father glared at her. “For your sake, then. All right, magician. I will see what we can provide.” There
was no hospitable warmth in his voice.

The magician nodded knowingly—he had heard the exchange—and turned away. “William Moore, I'm
starved! Can we get something to eat around here before we look around to see what's needful?”

“There's much in the town that you'll declare needs your attention, I'm sure,” William Moore answered
dryly as Jacob's father headed for the kegs. His mother remained where she was, looking after her
husband with a forlorn look on her face.

Perhaps, Jacob wondered as he followed the magicians, he could acquire magical skills by copying the
magician's behavior. He tried to emulate the way Blade kept his right arm hidden and to gesture with his