"Books - David Eddings - Belgarath the Sorcerer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

"Belgarath," Belzedar objected, "is it wise to bring such a one here?
Wolves are not the most trustworthy of creatures, you know."

The she-wolf bared her fangs at him for that. How in the world could
she possibly have understood what he'd said?

"What is her name?" the gentle Beltira asked me.

"Wolves don't need names, brother," I replied.

"They know who they are without such appendages. Names are a human
conceit, I think."

Belzedar shook his head and moved away from the wolf.

"Is she quite tame?" Belsambar asked me. Taming things was a passion
with Belsambar. I think he knew half the rabbits and deer in the Vale
by their first names, and the birds used to perch on him the way they
would have if he had been a tree.

"She isn't tame at all, Belsambar," I told him.

"We met by chance while I was going north, and she decided to tag
along."

"Most remarkable," the wolf said to me.

"Are they always so full of questions?"

"How did you know they were asking questions?"

"You, too? You are as bad as they are." That was a maddening habit of
hers. If she considered a question unimportant, she simply wouldn't
answer it.

"It's the nature of man to ask questions," I said a bit defensively.

"Curious creatures," she sniffed, shaking her head. She could also be
a mistress of ambiguity.

"What a wonder," Belkira marveled.

"You've learned to converse with the beasts. I pray you, dear brother,
instruct me in this art."

"I wouldn't exactly call it an art, Belkira. I took the form of a wolf
on my journey to the north. The language of wolves came with the form
and remained even after I changed back. It's no great thing."