"(ebook) Anthony Piers - Xanth 07 - Dragon on a Pedestal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

returned her thought to Dor. The assumption of the throne of
Xanth had abruptly matured him, at least in her eyes, and the
arrival of their darling child two years later had matured him
again. Now, at age twenty-nine. Dor seemed quite solid and
respectable. In a few more years he might even look kingly!

Ivy, in contrast, was a bundle of squiggle. She was large
and agile for her age, with fair hair that bore just a tinge of
green and eyes with more than that. She was insatiably curious
about the whole of Xanth. That was natural with any child, of
course; Irene's parents, who had ruled Xanth before Dor, had
remarked on her own propensities for mischief at an early age.
Irene's magic talent was for growing plants, which was prob-
ably why her own hair was green, and it seemed that talent
had manifested early. Before she had learned to talk, she had
caused all manner of weeds to sprout around Castle Roogna.
Blue roses were all right, but skunk cabbages were awkward,
particularly when they got upset.

Ivy's talent, though, was of a different nature. They had
had to readjust palace life when she was around, becauseЧ

"Halsh!" It was a zombie centaur guarding the approach to
the castle of the Zombie Master. Zombies came in all varieties;

Dragon on a Pedestal 3

most wereЧor had once beenЧhuman, but some were animal
or crossbreed. The Zombie Master could reanimate any dead
creature, giving it perpetual half-life. This one's hide was mot-
tled with mold and its face was rotting out, but otherwise it
was in fair condition.

"We are here for the twins' debut," King Dor said, just as
if he were addressing a living creature. "Please let us pass."

"Ssurre," the zombie said. Evidently it had been told to be
accommodating for this very special occasion. Zombies had
rotten brains, but could comprehend and remember simple in-
structions.

They moved on toward the castle. It was a truly grotesque
specimen of its kind. It had a moat filled in with thick, greenish
sludge, populated by corrupt monsters. Its stones were degen-
erating slimestone. It looked centuries old, though it had been
built less than a decade ago. That was the way the zombies
liked it. They had made it, and their ichor stained every surface.

The Zombie Master's twin children were alert. Both hurried
out to meet the incoming party. They were just sixteen, lanky