"Lawrence Watt-Evans - War Surplus 01 - The Cyborg And The Sorcerers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

and bizarre objects, trinkets, and talismans, everything from mounted gems to stuffed birds to tableware.
Among this display of arcana were several skulls of various kinds and innumerable flasks, jars, and vials.

The window he had entered by was in the wall of charts, as was a second window off to his left; there
were two doors, one in each wall of books, directly across from him and at the left end of the room. The
one at the end stood slightly ajar.

It was a good-sized room, perhaps four meters across and six meters long, and there was considerable
furniture scattered about, including two heavy wooden tables of different heights, a desk, assorted chairs,
and half a dozen stands or pedestals bearing strange instruments, one of which he recognized as a
celestial globe. A reading stand was pushed into a corner, where the shelves of junk met bookshelves.
Dozens of candles, from tall tapers to burned-out stubs, were scattered about, some in candlesticks or
sconces, others just set upon whatever was handy.

Slant had encountered many similar rooms in fiction but never before in reality; he had no doubt
whatsoever that he had stumbled upon a wizard's laboratory.

Since there was reason to believe that he was to investigate whatever the "wizards" used for magic,
chancing upon the laboratory was an incredible stroke of luck. Right there he might find what he was
looking for and be able to go his way without killing anybody or doing any further harm.

He needed more light; the flashlight wasn't suitable for anything beyond a casual glance around. A few
candles would do nicely if he could find some way to light them.

The thing to do was to consider the question logically. How did the room's regular user light all these
candles? If he used his so-called magic, that was no help; Slant therefore assumed, for the sake of
argument, that magic was not put to such petty uses.

What, then? There was no fireplace from which a splint could be lit, nor anything he recognized as a
firepot. Flint and steel, perhaps, or even matches; might well be lying around somewhere in the clutter.
Matches were simple enough, just a little basic chemistry; with any luck these people used them. The
thought of trying to light anything with flint and steel did not appeal to him at all; he'd tried it once or twice
and knew how slow and tedious it was.

If there were matches, where would they be? They would be near the door, of course, where they could
be found easily upon entering.

Sure enough, a careful search with the flashlight discovered a jar of blue-tipped splinters on the corner of
a table near the door in the long wall. He soon had several candles burning brightly.

The candlelight gave the room a much warmer and homier feel; he no longer felt like a nervous burglar,
sneaking about in the dark. He put away his flashlight and removed his helmet and oxygen mask, laying
them on the nearest table.

Thus unencumbered, he decided that the best place to start was with the books. The problem was that
there were so many of them. He ran his eye casually along the nearest shelf, reading the titles.

The Morality of Magic, Magic and Its Misuse, Professional Ethics—none of those sounded very
helpful. He wanted an elementary general text on the subject He skipped down a few shelves, and found
The Book of Law: Volume Twelve, War and Conflict. That wasn't any better. He moved farther down