"(ebook) Anthony Piers - Xanth 11 - Heaven Cent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

"Shut up, wood-brain!" Dolph hissed.

"Don't call me names, smart-bottom!" the chair retorted, louder. "I'll run a splinter into you."

Dolph decided not to argue further. His father's talent was conversation with the inanimate, and the inanimate wasn't very smart. In King Dor's presence anything was apt to talk, even when not asked.

King Dor exchanged a glance with Queen Irene. Dolph knew that meant trouble. They were looking for some way to keep him home without hurting his feelings. Parents were experts at stifling adventure without seeming unreasonable.

"Perhaps if you had a suitable adult companion," Irene

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said. She was actually just as bossy as Ivy, but she masked it expertly. Her suggestions, however mildly phrased, had the force of law.

Ouch! That was worse than a splinter! An adult companion would rain everything. Especially the kind his mother would favor a centaur. Centaurs were entirely too disciplined and reasonable, and they always wanted to educate children. Dolph had had more than enough tutoring for a lifetime.

Still, his mother had spoken. She knew he didn't want a companion, certainly not an adult. She figured that would turn him off the Quest. But perhaps he could get around her by getting a companion who wouldn't be too obnoxious. It could be a real artЧgetting around parentsЧbut it was possible if one truly put his mind to it.

"All right," he said. "But I get to choose him."

King Dor kept a straight face, which meant he was trying not to smile. That was a good sign. They both knew that Queen Irene would want a female centaur; if Dolph got this past her, he would win half the battle at the outset.

"Very well," she said after a significant pause. "But we must approve him."

Urn. That could be a devastating qualification. She would not approve anyone he really liked, only someone she liked. How could he get around mat?

Dolph had a quick, juvenile mind. In only three seconds he had figured out a way. "Done," he said. "I'll make my choice tomorrow."

"Certainly," Queen Irene agreed with one of her smooth masked smiles. She thought she had him.

"This'll be fun, twerp," the chair remarked insolently.

King Dor said nothing. He knew better than to get in the way of a contest of wills like this. That was why he was King.

Back in his room, Dolph pondered names. His strategy was simple: he would make a series of suggestions so awful that his mother would reject them with queenly outrage. She was good at that. Then he would slip in the one he wanted, and it would seem so sensible by cotnpari-

Heoven Cent 9

son that she would agree before she really thought about it. She might regret it later, but she would be committed. A Queen never went back on her word; it looked bad, and she was very conscious of her appearance.

The one he had in mind was Grundy Golem. Grundy was an obnoxious, loudmouthed little creature, fashioned from wood and string and rag and later made real by the Demon X(A/N)th. He had an insult for every occasion. Therefore he could be a lot of fun. He also spoke every language mat existed, both animal and plant, and mat could be handy on a trip into the wilds of Xanth. He was married to Rapunzel, who was a sickeningly nice little woman at all times except when she got a snarl in her hair. That was because her hair was endlessly long. Then she could speak almost as interestingly as Grundy as she fought with the tangle. Grundy was devoted to her, but he liked adventure too, so would probably agree to travel with Dolph.

Now all he needed was a suitably awful list of names. Who would really turn off his mother? Well, there was Brontes the Cyclops, the huge one-eyed monster who lived -in a cave and ate people. There was the Gerrymander, who was continually dividing and conquering, changing his shape into the most grotesque configurations. And Pook, the ghost horse. But he needed more names, in case his mother was too canny to be fooled by only three.

Dolph jumped on his bed, bounced a couple of times, then swung his legs over the side. A cold hand shot out from the shadow under the bed and grabbed his ankle.

"Hey!" he cried. "You aren't Handy!" Handy was his regular bed monster.