"Deborah Doyle - Circle of Magic 02 - The Secret of The Tower" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Debra)

Walter cut the pie in half with his dagger and handed a portion to Randal. The young wizard bit into the
pastry and juicy beef, and felt thankful for the kitchen scraps he'd eaten earlier-without those to take the
edge off his appetite, he'd have shamed himself before his cousin by tearing into his dinner like a hungry
animal.
"So," said Walter, when all the food was gone. "Tell me about Tarnsberg."
Randal was silent for a moment. How could he describe the Schola to somebody who'd never studied
there? Walter would never know an apprentice wizard's bitter frustration when a common charm refused
to work, or understand the heady joy that came from seeing a difficult spell turn out right at last.
"It's a city on the western coast," said Randal finally, without looking up. "I studied magic there."
"For three years?" Walter asked.
Randal nodded. He could sense his cousin looking at him, and Walter's next question came as no
surprise.
"Can you show me some?"
"You mean, do magic?"
"Yes."
Randal shook his head. "I can't."
"What do you mean, you can't? Didn't you learn anything in three years?"
"More than I wanted to," said Randal. "I'll tell you all about it someday, but not now."
He gave a quick, involuntary shudder. Just the memory of the last time he'd worked magic-in Master
Laerg's demon-filled tower room, crowded with scaly horrors seeking to drink his blood-" enough to
make his mouth go dry. He reached out for the leather bottle of water, and felt his wrist caught in
Walter's muscular grip.
He didn't resist as his cousin turned the hand, palm upward. "That's quite a scar," said Walter, after a few
seconds. "How did you get it?"
"I grabbed the wrong end of a sword."
Walter laughed. "Sure you did. After all of Sir Palamon's training! That's a good one, Randy ... you
grabbed the wrong end of a ..."
Then Randal saw his cousin's amusement start to fade as Walter got a closer look at the red, slanting
scar.
"You're not joking, are you?" said Walter quietly. "That's recent, too. Do you want to tell me about ..."
"No."
"Randal," said Walter, "whatever happened, you're still family. Is there somebody I'm going to have to kill
for this?"
"No," said Randal again. He pulled his hand away and closed his fist to hide the scar. "He's already
dead."
Walter gave him a long, considering look. "I see. And what about you? Are you going somewhere, or are
you just drifting about?"
That, at least, Randal could answer. "I'm heading for Tattinham, and from there about a day's journey
into the mountains. There's someone I have to find up there."
"That's wonderful!" Walter seemed genuinely pleased. "We can travel together for a few days."
Randal fingered the cut on his cheek and gave his cousin a doubtful glance. "Will you be going with those
... with the others?"
"Why, yes, I suppose I will. Safety in numbers ... oh, I see your problem." Walter frowned. "We'll have
to tell them you're my squire. They'll never suspect you were the boy they beat up in the dark."
"Probably not," said Randal.
Besides, he thought, Reginald and all his friends put together probably aren't smart enough to make a
guess like that.
"But I won't lie about myself," he told his cousin. "I'm a journeyman wizard; even if I can't work magic, a
wizard doesn't speak anything but the truth."
"I'm not asking you to lie about anything," said Walter, a little stiffly. "After all, cousin, I'll be giving my