"Robert Weinberg - Logical Magician 02 - A Calculated Magician" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinberg Robert)

gingerbread men at Christmastime. “The clash of steel, the sweat of battle, the smell of blood, the
agonizing cries of the dying.”
“Remember the Thirty Years’ War?” asked Cassandra. “Fighting with the Swedes against Tilly in
Leipzig. Those were violent days, filled with excitement.”
“Especially with the bubonic plague killing half the population of Venice the same year,” replied
his mother. “They wanted to burn you as a witch because of your color. Lucky I was there with my
sisters to save you from the fire.”
“I paid back that debt during the war between Russia and Poland thirty years later,” returned
Cassandra. “Those Cossacks had more than a game of kiss and tell on their minds.”
“You were a demon,” said Freda. “How many did you slaughter that afternoon? Twenty, thirty?”
“Mother,” protested Jack, his face turning red. “What are you saying!”
“Sorry, Johnnie,” said his mother, not quite succeeding in suppressing a grin. “Different times,
different customs. I’m quite satisfied living with your father these days, helping him manage his business.
Each age has its noble warriors. In this century, businessmen fight the great battles. But it is fun to
reminisce a little about the past.”
“Your sisters?” interrupted Cassandra.
“The same as ever. We talk infrequently. They took offense that I left the act to get married. The
last I heard, they were touring out west in a rodeo. My ravens spy on them. According to the birds, they
continue performing trick riding stunts, forming human pyramids on the backs of horses, and shooting
holes in playing cards. The same dull stuff we did for Buffalo Bill.”
Jack rubbed his forehead in bewilderment. His mind was overloading with too much data too
soon. He spotted Megan edging out of the door of Merlin’s inner office. Anxiously, he hurried over to his
girlfriend.
“You were expecting this?” he asked, taking hold of her hands. As usual, a tingle of excitement
raced through his body from the touch. To Jack, Megan was real magic, pure and simple. The
old-fashioned kind.
“Not really,” she replied, grinning. “We thought it would be nice to leave you and your mother
alone for a few seconds to say hello. Neither of us expected this outburst. Father’s hiding behind his
desk. What’s the story?”
“Apparently Cassandra and my mom are old drinking buddies,” said Jack, rolling his eyes in
mock dismay. “We know Cassandra is the last of the Amazons. My mother, it turns out, is evidently
some sort of warrior maiden.”
Megan giggled, as behind them the two women chattered away contentedly. “Your mom reminds
me of the lead singer in one of those Wagnerian operas. You know, the sturm-and-drang things featuring
Rhine Maidens and Siegfried and the Norse Gods.”
Jack opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. He felt a little dizzy. It was either too many
dramatic revelations in too short a time or going too long without lunch.
“The two birds that arrived with my mom?” he asked. “They anywhere around? I want to ask
them some questions.”
“Probably yakking away with Merlin,” answered Megan. “I never met ravens who talked so
much.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Jack, opening the door to the inner office. “Let’s say hello to your
father. This pair won’t notice we’re gone.”
Merlin the Magician nodded a cursory hello to Jack and Megan as the two of them entered the
inner chamber. The wizard, an elderly man with weather-browned skin and a long snow white beard,
was engaged in a deep conversation with one of the ravens. Hugo and Mongo sat perched on the top of
the magician’s chair, their yellow claws sunk deep into the leather.
Though he had lived with the birds most of his life, Jack still couldn’t tell one from the other. Now
that he realized the pair were creations of magic, not nature, he understood their identical nature. The
blackbirds had been imagined to life as twin ravens. Mankind’s subconscious mind had never given them