"01 - Wizard's Bane (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cook Rick)

"They may all have escaped. But perhaps some are lying hurt nearby and in need of aid. I wish I had not been so quick to discard parts of my kit this morning."
"There doesn't seem to be anyone here."
"Then search more closely."
Moira didn't call out and Wiz didn't suggest it. He felt conspicuous enough as it was.
While Moira searched near the house and log building, Wiz wandered around the remains of the barn. The heaps of ashes were unusually high there and from the remains he guessed the barn had been full of hay when it went up. He wondered what had happened to the animals.
Wiz stumbled over something in the debris. He looked down and saw it was an arm, roasted golden crisp and then obviously gnawed. A child's arm. Wiz opened his mouth to scream and vomited instead.
"What is it?" Moira came rushing up as he heaved his guts out. "What did you . . . Oh." She stopped short as she saw what lay on the ground between them.
"Oh my God," he moaned, retching the last bit of liquid from his stomach. "Oh my God."
"Trolls," Moira said, her face white and drawn, her freckles standing out vividly against the suddenly pale skin. "They burned this place and put the flames to use."
"They ate them," Wiz said
"Trolls are not choosy about their fare," Moira said looking out over the smoldering ruins.
"Hey! Do you think they're still around?"
"Possibly," Moira said abstractedly. "After a meal like this trolls would be disinclined to go far."
"Then let's get out of here before they come back for dessert."
"No!" Moira shouted. Wiz started and turned to see tears in her eyes. "We go nowhere until we bury these folk."
"But . . ."
"There was no one to do it for my family."
"Did your family end up . . . like that?" Wiz finally asked.
Moira's face clouded. "I do not know. We never found them."
"What happened?"
"It was a summer day, much like today only later in the year. I had gone into the wood to pick berries. I filled my apron with them that my mother might make preserves. My father had found a bee tree, you see.
"It took me all the afternoon to gather enough berries. I was away for hours. And when I returned . . . there was no one there.
"The door to the cottage stood open and the cream was still in the churn, but my parents and brother and sisters were gone. I looked and called and searched until after nightfall. For three days I looked, but I never found them."
"What happened to them?"
"I don't know. But there are worse things on the Fringe of the Wild Wood than being eaten by trolls."
Without thinking, Wiz clasped his arms around the hedge witch and hugged her to him. Without thinking she settled into his arms to be hugged and buried her head in his shoulder. They stood like that for a long minute and then Moira straightened suddenly and pulled away.
"Come on!" she said sharply. "Find something to dig with."
There was a charred spade leaning against the remains of the log building and Moira set Wiz to work digging a grave in what had been the kitchen garden. The tilled loam turned easily, but Wiz was red-faced and sweating before he had a hole large enough to suit Moira.
While he dug, Moira searched for pieces of bodies. Somewhere she found a smoke-stained old quilt to serve as a shroud. Wiz kept his head down and his back to her so he would not have to see what she was piling on the cloth spread among the heat-blasted cabbages.
With Wiz's help, she hauled the lumpy stinking burden to the hole and dumped it in. It weighed surprisingly little, Wiz thought.
They shoveled dirt onto the quilt as quickly as they could. Wiz wielded the spade uncomplainingly in spite of the aches in his arms and back and the blisters springing up on his hands.
"It will not stop wolves or others from digging down," Moira said frowning at their handiwork as Wiz scraped the last of the earth onto the mound. "It should be covered with stone that their rest may be more secure."
"You want rocks?" Wiz said warily.
She thought and then shook her head. "There is not time. We will leave them as they are and hope." Then she bowed her head and her lips moved as she recited a blessing over the pathetic mound of fresh earth. When that was done she turned abruptly and signaled Wiz to follow.
The hurried back to the shelter of the forest. For once Moira didn't have to urge Wiz on. He was more than eager to get away from that grisly farmstead and he was absolutely convinced of the reality of magic and their present danger.
а
"How did it go with the Council, Master?" Bal-Simba's apprentice asked as the giant wizard came into his study.
"Well enough, Arianne." He leaned his staff against the wall and loosened his leopard-skin cloak. "But it is very good to be away from them for a while." Bal-Simba settled into a carved chair with a sigh and leaned back.
The tower room was bright and sun-washed. The batik hangings spoke of animals, birds, flowers and cheerful things. The wide windows on both sides were thrown open and a soft summer breeze wafted through the room, stirring the hangings on the walls and ruffling the parchments on the large table in its center. Arianne, a tall thin woman with ash-blonde hair caught back in a single braid, brought him a cup of wine from the sideboard.
Bal-Simba drained the cup with another sigh and handed it back for a refill.
"Well, I have done all I can to protect our visitor. The Watchers are on the alert and they are confusing the search as best they may."
"And the other matter?" she asked, handing him a second cup of wine.
"The Council has not the faintest idea why Patrius brought this Sparrow among us." He shook his great head. "I had hoped that Patrius had confided in one of the Mighty, but it appears he did not. The Sparrow is as much a mystery to us as he is to the League."
"Why do you think Patrius Summoned this one?" Arianne asked.
"Our red-headed hedge witch thinks it was a mistake, that Patrius intended to Summon some great wizard, became confused under the attack and got this Wiz instead."
"And you, Lord?"
"I do not know. Certainly the Sparrow has no skill at magic, or ought else that I can find. But yet . . . Did I tell you that Patrius did not mark a pentagram to enclose the Summoned? That suggests he did not expect the Summoned to defend himself with magic."
Arianne frowned. "Which means that he either was certain the Summoned would not attack him or that he knew he had no magic. Yes. What did Patrius say to the hedge witch?"
"Apparently Patrius was being oracular. He said he sought help but when she asked him what kind he talked in riddles."
"That would be like Patrius," Arianne agreed. "He loved his little surprises.'