"Chalker, Jack L - Demons of the Dancing GodsUC - #2DG" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chalker Jack L)

Huspeth met her warmly at the small glen in the center of
the forest and tried her best to put the newcomer at ease. The
cauldron outside the hut where the white witch lived was bub-
bling with grand smells, and Huspeth would hear nothing se-
rious from her visitor until both had supped and the sun had

vanished far beyond the trees.

Finally, by fireglow, the legendary witch gazed sadly at her
strange-looking visitor and sighed. "Well, my daughter, time
has caught up with thee, and thine anguish I share."

Marge smiled a sad smile and nodded. "I owe you every-
thing," she said sincerely, "and I'm pained by thisЧbut I can
put it off no longer. It'sЧwell, it's driving me crazy!"

Huspeth nodded sympathetically and gave her hand a moth-
erly squeeze. "Already thou art burdened with living in two
worlds, not truly a part of either yet very much a part of both,"
the witch said soothingly, "That is a far greater burden than
any should bear, yet to live in three is impossible."

Marge stifled a tear, knowing that at least one other under-
stood. Two worlds and not truly a part of either, she thought
sourly. A Texas girl who'd failed at a career, failed at marriage,
even failed as a hooker and as a waitress, who'd hitched a ride
on her way to Hell with a crazy trucker drafted by a sorcerer

JACK L. CHALKER 11

to fight a war in another world. Joe was supposed to be here
in Husaquahr, at least, although he might argue the point.
Ruddygore had needed a hero not born of this world and thus
immune to the demons of this place and he'd plucked Joe from
Earth just before Joe was to die in a crash. She'd hitched a
ride with Joe that dark night, thinking of suicide and expecting
to make El Paso. Instead, here she was, in the land where fantasy
was real, the origins of all human fantasies and myths, across
the Sea of Dreams. And here the sorcerer with the impossible
fictitious name of Throckmorton P. RuddygoreЧHuspeth had
taught her that none of the Council of Thirteen used their real
names, since knowing the real name of someone in their class
gave an equal opponent some kind of advantageЧhad sent the
hitchhiking Marge to Huspeth in the Glen Dinig, to be trained
as a healer and white witch. After the training, she had done
her job well and contributed to keeping the powerful magic
Lamp out of the hands of the marching Dark Baron, but there
had been a catch. The order of white witches to which Huspeth
and she belonged drew power from their virginity and celi-