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

housemaids and sculleys finished their days’ work and climbed the narrow servants’ stair to their beds
under the eaves. The watchman’s cry, muffled and perfunctory, came faintly through the window. Poor
old cull, Kim thought as a gust of wind sent raindrops rattling like gunfire across the panes. I’m glad I’m
not out in this.
Suddenly she sat bolt upright in the bed. That sounded like ... The noise came again, soft but clear.
Someone’s downstairs. Someone who’s got no business being there.
Kim slid out of bed. Her eyes slid past the bellpull without pausing. If she summoned a maid, she’d
only have to send the girl for a footman, and by the time all the running around was done, the cull
downstairs would have gotten away. And if she was wrong, if there wasn’t anyone, she’d have to endure
endless lectures from Mrs. Lowe. She could call someone when she was sure.
She started for the door, then stopped. Her white nightdress stood out in the darkness, she didn’t
want the cracksman to spot her and pike off before she got a footman or two to help catch him. Her
dressing gown was a dark, rich blue that would blend with the shadows; she picked it up and struggled
into it. Then she eased the door open and slipped into the darkened hallway.
Moving lightly, she made for the stairs. Another soft, scuffing sound came from below, followed by a
distinct creak; hadn’t anyone else noticed? Probably a novice, on his first crack lay. Somebody
should have told him to stick by the walls. Mother Tibb wouldn’t have sent anybody out that
didn’t know at least that much.
Suiting her own actions to her thoughts, Kim plastered herself against one wall and started down the
stairs, setting her bare feet as near the wall as she could. No creaks betrayed her. Halfway down, she
caught the flash of a dark lantern and froze. The light flickered past. A moment later, a figure skulked
down the hallway, opening doors and peering through them. The strong smell of a cheap lard candle and
the scent of wet wool preceded him; he must have been standing in the rain for some time to be so
drenched. Finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, the man let the last door swing fully open and disappeared
into the library.
The library? What could a thief want from the library? The silver was downstairs, on the ground
floor, and Mairelon’s brother didn’t keep valuables on display in his townhouse. The whole thing had
more of a rum look by the minute. Kim frowned, considering; then a hastily stifled expletive decided her.
There was no knowing what this cove was up to. She’d just make sure he couldn’t pike off, and then
she’d call the footmen.
Silently, she crept down the remaining steps. A cautious look showed the cracksman bent over the
end table, peering at the shelves behind it by the light of the dark lantern. Kim smiled grimly and, holding
the handle to prevent the betraying click of the latch snapping into place, carefully closed the library door.
Now, if she could just lock it in place somehow ... But the door had no lock, and there was nothing
nearby she could use to jam it. Magic, perhaps? She ran over in her mind the short list of spells she could
cast with some reliability. There was one that might do the trick, if she could get it right.
She took a deep breath, then focused her eyes on the handle. In her mind she pictured it as it was,
staying as it was, motionless, frozen, immovable, and in a voice barely above a whisper began the spell
that would make the image real.
An outraged bellow and a loud crash from inside the library rattled her concentration. “—sta, atque
—” she continued, and then the door burst open, knocking her sprawling. An instant later, the escaping
housebreaker stumbled over her and went down. Kim shouted and grabbed at him. Her hands slid
against silk, then tightened around thick, damp wool. The burglar twisted and something tore; the man
scrambled away from her, leaving her holding a scrap of cloth.
Kim tried to roll to her feet and ended up tangled in her dressing gown. The man regained his feet
and pelted down the hall, just as a sleepy-eyed footman appeared on the far stairs. The burglar shoved
the hapless footman against the wall and dashed down the stairs and out of sight. Crashing noises and
yells marked his continued progress. The footman recovered himself and plunged after his assailant.
More shouts drifted upward.
As Kim, muttering curses, struggled to a standing position at last, she heard footsteps on the stairs