"Patricia C. Wrede - Magician 2 - Magician's Ward" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wrede Patricia C)

My critique group, The Usual Suspects past and present, who were amazingly good about sitting
through the same scenes over and over until I got them right, and who performed prodigious feats during
the final days of production: Lois McMaster Bujold, Peg Kerr Ihinger, Elise Matthesen, Bruce Bethke,
and Joel Rosenberg.
My editors, Delia Sherman and Patrick Nielsen Hayden, who were supernaturally patient when
patience was most required, and who somehow knew exactly when it was necessary to crank up the
heat.
Caroline Stevermer, Rosemary Ighel, Lois Bujold, and Pamela Dyer-Bennet, who provided much
appreciated moral support, encouragement, lunches, and a careful eye to period detail. My family, who
were exceedingly understanding as regards late Christmas presents and last-minute cancellations.

One




Cold rain drizzled on the dark London streets—at least, it looked cold. Kim peered out her
bedroom window at the deserted square two stories below and pulled her shawl closer around her
shoulders, though the fire in the grate was almost too warm for comfort. She hadn’t had to shelter,
shivering, in a doorway for nearly a year, but the memories lingered.
Still no sign of Mairelon. Is he going to stay out all night? Kim thought resentfully. He gets to
jaw with Lord Shoreham and eat at the Royal College of Wizards, and I’m stuck here with a great
thick square book and that poker-backed aunt of his. She shook her head. It was not what she had
expected, a year ago when she had agreed to become Mairelon’s ward and learn reading and magic.
Then, she had thought it would be a great adventure.
“‘Anything might happen,’ I thought,” Kim said aloud to her reflection in the rain-dark window.
“‘Anything at all.’ I must have been touched in the head.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue
at her mirror image.
“Dicked in the nob, that’s what I was,” she muttered.
The bedroom door opened. “What did you say, Kim?” Mrs. Lowe asked in a mildly disapproving
tone.
With a faint sigh, Kim slid off the window seat and turned. The relentless respectability of Mairelon’s
paternal aunt was very wearing. It seemed much longer than a week since they’d found her ensconced in
the townhouse on their arrival in London. And since they were all technically guests of Mairelon’s brother
Andrew, who as elder son had inherited the townhouse, there was nothing to be done about Mrs. Lowe
except spend time elsewhere. Which Mairelon had been doing rather a lot. Kim wished she had that
option. “I didn’t say anything,” she told Mrs. Lowe in as mild a tone as she could manage.
“I was sure I heard your voice.” Mrs. Lowe hesitated. “It wasn’t any of that ... that thieves’ cant,
was it?”
“Flash lingo,” Kim said helpfully.
Mrs. Lowe frowned. “After all my nephew has done for you, the least you could do is to be more
careful of your language.”
“Mairelon doesn’t mind the way I talk.”
“My nephew is not always as conscious of the social niceties as he should be,” Mrs. Lowe said.
“Nonetheless, they must be observed. And you really should refer to him as ‘Mr. Merrill.’ He is your
guardian, and it would show a proper respect.”
“Did you want me for something?” Kim asked, hoping to dodge the discussion. “I have studying to
do.” She waved at the fat, leather-bound book on the nightstand beside the bed, and suppressed a
grimace. Three more volumes were waiting for her in the library below. Why he keeps shoving them at
me when he knows I’m no great hand at reading ....