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

"How can you want to be a wizard, boy? You haven't got the
foggiest idea of what it's all about." The wizard rose and
stood, glaring down at Randal. The northerner wasn't as tall as
Lord Alyen or Sir Iohan, but this close to him, Randal still had
to look up to meet his eyes. "You'll spend most of your life with
just enough power to get you into trouble. You'll be hungry
more often than you're fed, and spend more time in danger on
the road than safe under a roof. And maybe you'll survive it all
and live to be old and white-bearded and wiseтАФbut if you do,
most of your friends will have died a long time before. Go back
downstairs to your uncle, lad. This is no life for you."

"ButтАФ" Randal protested.

"Go downstairs, I said!"

Randal went. The rainy day dragged on, and Randal didn't
see the wizard again until dinner.

When the meal was over, Madoc gave the hall a new display
of lights and sounds. They were even more beautiful than
before, but this time the music was sad. Then a glowing point
appeared in front of the wizard, and another and another,
shifting and sparkling until they seemed to make a golden tree,
with its top three times the height of a tall man.

The tree of light stood for a moment at the height of its
glory, its branches full of blossoms. Then, as Randal watched in
dismay, it shrank to a gnarled old age, shed its glittering
leaves, and decayed into darkness.

Instead of seeking out company after supper, Randal
headed for the small room that he shared with Walter. He
flung himself down on the bed without bothering to undress,
and lay staring up into the dark. Madoc's illusion had made him
feel restless and uneasyтАФhe couldn't help feeling that there
was a message in it for him somehow.
 But what kind of message? he wondered. Does it mean that
if I study magic my life will come to nothing? Or does it mean
just the opposite?

Randal turned the question over and over in his mind, but
found no answer. He was still thinking when he fell asleep.

By next morning, the rain had stopped. Randal could smell
the clear day coming almost before he awoke: a mixture of
clean-washed stone, new grass, and damp earth drying in the
sun. He rolled out of bed and stood for a moment, blinking at
an empty room.