"Dexter-HerdingInstinct" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dexter Colin)

magic -- he was with her each day, every night. Mai was a bright dog, a
demanding one, willful as any father-coddled princess, but she earned no taint
of the extraordinary. Her blue eyes, once one was accustomed to them, were
simply blue, unusual by no more than their hue. They saw what any dog saw --
which was not much. Dogs relied upon keen noses, above sight. And ears, which
explained her attention to the wind.

By the mid of winter, the wizard was wondering why it had not occurred to him
earlier to simply apply his arts to the puppy-- it would be a small thing to
change blue eyes to common brown for a week or two, and trade her to some herder
in need of a good dog. A flock of sheep to look after would settle her in short
order, keep her too busy for mischief. He would, of course, need to take her a
valley or two away, lest Mai be traced back to him when the spell faded and her
eyes were blue once more. That required that he wait for a break in the weather,
a reliable week or two in which to travel. Mai, who looked up in surprise from
uprooting a potted chive clump when he shouted, was all unwitting of her future.
No, those blue eyes did not gift a special sight.

RUNNING water is a bane to wizards, for even the mightiest of them dare cross
its unbridled power only at great peril. Thus had Corlinn sited his cottage
where he did -- the river was as good as a wall at his back, in case of
sorcerous attack. Likewise the water-smoothed stones, the river mud and rushes
he had used to build his home -- washed so long by the flowing water, they
retained its properties to the extent that no ill-wish could work harm upon
them. It stood to reason, he had never been across the unbridged river.

Winters in the backlands seemed harsher than those of the tamed city--the
swift-running river froze right over, shore to shore, thick enough that the deer
could be seen crossing upon the ice, fearlessly. Mai also ran out eagerly upon
the solid surface, uncaring about the cold, unheeding of the icy water rushing
two feet below, mindlessly happy to extend her range of mischief. Corlinn was
never tempted to such recklessness, himself. He walked-- well bundled-- along
the shore, admiring the patterns of ice and snow, the many shades of white and
gray, the rare blue that was a match for Mai's eyes, till his cheeks burned and
his toes ached with cold. Then he turned homeward.

As the season began to wane, the days to lengthen ever so slightly, he tramped
with a propose, seeking signs of the first blossom of the skunk cabbage on the
low ground by the river. The plants not only survived the snow -- they actually
managed to flower through the last drifts, generating heat enough to melt their
way into the sunlight. Corlinn made use of that property each year, to succor
delicate herbs he had brought from the City, plants unable to bear the
disturbance of indoor potting but too tender to withstand the snows they
struggled to sprout through. He looked eagerly for the unlovely flowers, anxious
to bank his plants with them for a critical few days.

The winter creaked to a dose -- literally. The river ice began to groan faintly
in the morning, the sound waxing as the day and the sunlight grew. The noise
abated only a trifle in the night -- and suddenly there was a rumble like
distant thunder which shook the wizard from his sleep -- and he knew the