"Anthony, Piers - Xanth 04 - Centaur Aisle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

"Why should I check with you?" he demanded. "You're not my tutor!"

"Because I have to be able to say I nagged you until you got your stupid
homework done, idiot," she said sensibly. "Once you clear with me,
we're both safe for the day. Got it straight now, knothead?"

Essentially, she was proffering a deal; she would leave him alone if he
didn't turn her in for doing it. It behooved him to acquiesce.

"Straight, greermose," he agreed.

"And watch that bee," she warned as she slipped out the door.

"It's got to spell each word right, but it won't tell you if you have
the, wrong word." The bee zoomed for the aperture, but she closed it
quickly behind her.

"All right, spelling bee," Dor said. "I don't enjoy this any more than
you do. The faster we get through, the faster we both get out of here."

The bee was not satisfied, but buzzed with resignation. It was
accustomed to nonoring rules, for there were no rules more finicky and
senseless than those for spelling words.

Dor read aloud his first two sentences, pausing after every word to get
the spelling. He did not trust the bee, but knew it was incapable of
misspelling a word, however much it might wish to, to spite him.

"Some can conjure things," he continued slowly, "and others can make a
hole, or illusions, or can soar through the air. But in Mundania no one
does magic, so it's very dull. There are not any dragons there. Instead
there are bear and horse and a great many other monsters."

He stopped to count the words. All the way up to eighty-two!

Only eight more to go-no, more than that; his fingers had run out.

Twenty-eight to go. But he had already covered the subject. What now?

Well, maybe some specifics. "Our ruler is King Trent, who has reigned
for seventeen years. He transforms people into other creatures." There
were another seventeen words, bringing the total tosay, it was
ninety-nine words! He must have miscalculated before.

One more word and he'd be done!

But what one word would finish it? He couldn't think of one. Finally
he made a special effort and squeezed out another whole sentence: "No
one gets chased here; we fare in peace." But that was nine more
words-eight more than he needed. It really hurt him to waste energy