"David Eddings. Castle of wizardry enchanters' end game (The Belgariad, Part two)" - читать интересную книгу автора

He knew instinctively what she wanted. He gathered his will and held
out his hand to her. She grasped it quickly, and he felt the force surge
out of him.
Her eyes were very wide as she intently watched the old man's face.
"Again!" And once more she pulled the quickly gathered will out of him.
"What are we doing?" Garion's voice was shrill.
"Trying to replace some of what he has lost. Maybe-" She glanced toward
the door. "Hurry, Durnik!" she shouted.
Durnik rushed back into the wagon.
"Open the bag," she instructed, "and give me that black jar - the one
that's sealed with lead - and a pair of iron tongs."
"Should I open the jar, Mistress Pol?" the smith asked.

"No. Just break the seal - carefully. And give me a glove - leather, if
you can find one."
Wordlessly, Silk pulled a leather gauntlet from under his belt and
handed it to her. She pulled it on, opened the black jar, and reached
inside with the tongs. With great care, she removed a single dark,
oily-looking green leaf.
She held it very carefully in the tongs. "Pry his mouth open, Garion,"
she ordered.
Garion wedged his fingers between Belgarath's clenched teeth and
carefully pried the old man's jaws apart. Aunt Pol pulled down her
father's lower lip, reached inside his mouth with the shiny leaf, and
lightly brushed his tongue with it, once and once only.
Belgarath jumped violently, and his feet suddenly scraped on the floor.
His muscles heaved, and his arms began to flail about.
"Hold him down," Aunt Pol commanded. She pulled back sharply and held
the leaf out of the way while Mandorallen and Barak jumped in to hold down
Belgarath's convulsing body. "Give me a bowl," she ordered.
"A wooden one."
Durnik handed her one, and she deposited the leaf and the tongs in it.
Then, with great care, she took off the gauntlet and laid it atop the
leaf. "Take this," she told the smith. "Don't touch any part of the glove."
"What do you want me to do with it, Mistress Pol?"
"Take it out and burn it - bowl and all - and don't let anyone get into
the smoke from it."
"Is it that dangerous?" Silk asked.
"It's even worse, but those are the only precautions we can take out
here."
Durnik swallowed very hard and left the wagon, holding the bowl as if
it were a live snake.
Polgara took a small mortar and pestle and began grinding certain herbs
from her bag into a fine powder as she watched Belgarath intently. "How
far is it to the Stronghold, Cho-Hag?" she asked the Algar king.
"A man on a good horse could make it in half a day," he replied.
"How long by wagon-a wagon driven carefully to avoid bouncing?"
"Two days."
She frowned, still mixing the herbs in the mortar. "All right, there's
no help for it, I guess. Please send Hettar to Queen Silar. Have him tell