"Debra Doyle & James D. MacDonald - School of Wizardry" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Debra)

Randal knew that Madoc spoke the truth. He remembered a
scrap of lore he'd heard from the healwife in Doun village,
something about lies and magic not working in the same mouth,
and tried again.

"If you can't teach me wizardry, Master MadocтАФ will you
take me where I can learn?"
 Madoc smiled, and Randal knew that this time he had asked
the right question. "That much I can do," the northerner said.
"Before the snow falls, you'll see the city of Tarnsberg and the
school for wizards there."

"But it's barely springtime now," protested Randal. "What
will IтАФwill we do until then?"

I can't go back to Doun, he thought. I'll never be able to
leave it all twice.

"We'll be traveling," said Madoc. "We'll follow the King's
Road for a while. And you," he added, "will learn enough about
reading and writing to get by at the Schola. That, at least, is
something I can teach you on the way. Don't worry, lad, you'll
be busy enough on this journey."


The northerner proved as good as his wordтАФand Randal
found him to be as hard a taskmaster with sounds and letters
as Sir Palamon had ever been with sword and shield. Night
after night, as the two of them made their way across
Brecelande, Randal went to sleep with rows of meaningless
scribbles dancing through his brain. Slowly, though, the
scribbles took on meaning, and he began to learn.
One evening some three weeks after they had left Doun,
Randal and Madoc took shelter from the weather in a
burned-out cottage. The day's traveling had not been pleasant.
All afternoon they had hiked over a stretch of ground where
somebody's army had passed not long before. The peasants who
should have been planting the spring crops had all fled or been
killed, and horses had trampled over the plowed fields. In the
ruins of what had been a prosperous village, the bodies of men
and animals still lay unburied.

They pressed on, but by nightfall they had still not left the
destruction behind. The deserted cottage where they finally
made their camp lacked half its roof and most of the walls on
two sides.

Randal was in a fretful mood. All during supper, which had
consisted of flat cakes made of oats and water cooked on a