"Anthony, Piers - Adept - 02 - Blue Adept" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

pointed out, the original Blue Adept had not had a unicorn
to guard him, and that might have made the difference. He
really did need Neysa.

They moved into a canter, then a full gallop as the two
unicorns warmed up. Clip and Neysa ran in perfect step,
playing their horns. She took the soprano theme on her
harmonica, he the alto on his saxophone. It was another
lovely duet, in counterpoint, augmented by the strong
cadence of their hooves. Stile wished he could join in, but
he had to preserve his anonymity, just in case they were
being observed. There were baleful things lurking in these
peaceful forests and glades; the unicorns' familiarity with




10 Blue Adept

the terrain and reputation as fighters made the landscape
become as peaceful as it seemed. But there was no sense
setting up the Blue Adept as a lure for trouble.

Clip knew the way. The unicorn herd grazed wherever
the Herd Stallion decreed, moving from pasture to pasture
within broad territorial limits. Other herds grazed other
territories; none of them intruded on these local demesnes.
Human beings might think of this as the region of the Blue
Adept, but animals thought of it as the region of this
particular herd. Werewolves and goblins and other crea-
tures also occupied their niches, each species believing it-
self to be the dominant force. Stile made it a point to get
along as well as he could with all creatures; such detente
was much more important here in the frame of Phaze than
it was in any nonmagical frame. And he genuinely re-
spected those other creatures. The werewolves, for exam-
ple, had helped him to discover his own place here, and the
entire local pack was oath-friends with Neysa.

They galloped west across the terrain where Stile had
first encountered Neysa; it was a spot of special signifi-
cance for them both. He reached around her neck to give
her an invisible hug, and she responded by twitching ear
back and rippling her skin under his hands as though shak-
ing off a fly. Secret communication, inexpressibly precious.

To the south was the great Purple Mountain range; to
the north the White Mountain range. There was surely a
great deal more to Phaze than this broad valley, but Stile
had not yet had occasion to see it. Once he had dealt with