"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 1 - The Misenchanted Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

 Done with Valder, the northerner rolled the wizard over with his foot;
the old man's arm fell splashing into the water.
Satisfied, the northerner called something, then turned and slogged off
across the marsh. A moment later Valder made out two other sets of footsteps
moving away. The torchlight, too, receded, leaving the Ethsharites in
darkness.
When the footsteps were safely out of earshot, Valder waited for another
long moment to be certain, his face in the mud and his nose full of the stench
of decaying aquatic life. Finally, he cautiously raised his head and peered
about. He saw no sign of anyone anywhere, save himself and the wizard. A few
sparks still smoldered here and there among the grasses, insects chirped, and
both moons were in the sky, but in general the night was dark and silent.
Slowly and carefully he rose to his knees and then to his feet, water
streaming from the folds of his drenched tunic and kilt and pouring out from
inside his breastplate. When no one shouted and no lights or sorcerous
weapon-flashes appeared, he reached down and helped the bedraggled and gory
little wizard up.
The old man stood, a trifle unsteady at first, and brushed at the mud
that caked the front of his robe, shaking mud and water from his hands between
strokes. He ignored the torrents of drying blood. When he decided that he had
removed what he could, he stood, dripping, and gazed through the smoky gloom
at the crater where his home had been.
When the sight had had time to sink in, he turned on Valder, fists
clenched and shaking, and screamed, "You stupid fool! You led them right to
me! Now look what they've done!"
"Don't shout," Valder whispered desperately. "We don't know how far
they've gone, or how well shatra can hear."
The wizard ceased shouting and glanced at the distant line of trees,
faintly visible in the moonlight. When no menacing figures appeared, he
pointed an accusing finger at the crater. "Look at that!" he cried.
"I'm sorry," Valder said with genuine contrition, uncomfortable speaking
to what looked like a mangled corpse. "I didn't know they would do anything
like that."
"You didn't know," the wizard mocked. "Well, soldier, you know now. And
what do I do, now that they've blown my house to powder looking for you? Do
you know that? I haven't even had my dinner!"
"I'm sorry," Valder repeated helplessly. "What can I do?"
"Haven't you done enough? Why don't you just go away and leave me alone?
The moons are up; you'll be able to see."
"Oh, I can't just leave; what would you do, here alone?"
"What would I do? I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll rebuild my house, just
as I built it before, restock my supplies somehow, though I don't know how,
and go on with my research just as if you had never come along, you blundering
idiot!"
"Your supplies? All those bottles and jars?"
"That's right, all those jars. I had everything from dragon's blood to
virgin's tears, twenty years of careful scrimping and saving and pilfering,
and the gods alone can know how I'll ever replace it all!"
"I'll stay and do what I can to help..."
"I don't want your help! Just go away!"