"Eisenstein,.Phyllis.-.Sorcerer's.Son" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eisenstein Phyllis)

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"My father was a knight; I have no entry to another trade. Nor do I know of one that pleases me as well. Would I wish to be a tinker or a smith? I think not."
"You enjoy risking your life for petty men? You yourself called them petty."
He plucked a single blossom and held it cupped in his hand, looking down at its pale yellow against his ruddy flesh. "Someday I will find a lord I can love, and him I will serve without complaint." He glanced up at Delivev. "Shall I hear your tale now, my lady?"
"Mine?" She shook her head. "I ifcve none to tell."
"What, a sorceress all alone in this," he waved an arm to include the whole of Castle Spinweb, "and no tale at all? Do you expect me to believe that?"
"I am a sorceress. They call me the Weaver sometimes. The castle was my mother's, and her mother's before her. None but my family have ever lived here, and I seldom leave. I lead a quiet lifeЧyou see all my world around you."
"The Weaver. What does that name mean?"
She pointed to a nearby trellis, cloaked with climbing roses. "You see the pattern there, the interlacing tendrils, the stems weaving in and out of the wooden support? TTiose roses are mine because of the way they grow. I could make them climb to my topmost tower in a few moments, or I could make them reach out to you, envelop you in their thorns, scratch your life away. Birds are mine, too, if they weave their nests, and snakes because they twine like living threads, and spiders that make websЧyou'll find them in every room of Castle Spinweb."
"And cloth?" asked Gildrum.
"Cloth of course," and she nodded toward him, causing his silken robe to tighten in a brief embrace.
He laughed. "Do your guests ever worry that the blankets on their beds might turn against them?"
"If my guests meant me harm, they would do well to worry so. But I rarely have guests. You are the first... in a long time."
Softly, he said, "Is that your choice, my lady?"
"I have no need of human companionship. I have my plants, my pets." She gazed about her garden, stretched to pluck a rose from the trellis; carefully,
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she stripped the thorns from its stem and then presented it to Gildrum. "Perhaps you would be surprised at how all this fills my life."
He accepted the rose and twined its stem with that of the yellow bloom he had plucked himself. "I wonder that you shun human society. Ordinary mortals, yes, I can comprehend how they might bore you, but there are other sorcerersЧI know of several, at least by reputation, and once I even saw one from afar, casting a spell for the lord I served at the time/'
"We know each other, we sorcerers, but we do not keep company. It is better so. Such powers would make for wild arguments, would they not, for even friends argue sometimes, and surely married couples do so. An argument over the seasoning of the soup might light the sky for miles, uproot trees, flood the land, destroy all that both of them held dear. Of what use would such a match be?"
"If that is your view of marriage, kind Delivev,
then I, who have never married, cannot disagree."
"Between sorcerers, yes. The sorcerous breed have
quick tempers, Mellor. They are happier solitary."
"You speak as if from experience. Forgive me if I
pry, my lady, but... did you ever marry?"
She shook her head. "My mother married, to her sorrow. I saw, for a few years when I was very young, what life could be like for a sorcerous couple. We were better off, she and I, after my father died."
"And your mother? AWiat happened to her?H "She died, too. She was very old when I was born, though of course you could not tell from looking at her." She looked into Gildrum's eyes. "I am old, too, Mellor. Much older than you imagine. We sorcerers are a long-lived stock."
He held the flowers out to her on his open palm. "You are younger than these blossoms in my sight And far more beautiful."
She took the blooms from his hand, her fingers resting warm against his flesh for a moment "Is a flattering tongue part of your knight's weaponry, Mellor?"
"One learns soft words when the object is worthy of them, my lady."
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"You should be a troubadour, then, instead of a knight, and spread soft words about the world instead of blood."
"What do you know of troubadours, my lady who rarely shelters a guest in her home? Are troubadours the lone exception to your aversion to humanity? If so, I might consider the change."
"I need not let the world into my castle; I can see it well enough if I wish, and hear it, too. Shall I show you a marvel?"
"Yes. I havent seen many true marvels hi my travels."
She rose. "Can you walk now?" "I think so." He stood shakily. "Lean upon my shoulder."
"With pleasure." He let his weight fall lightly upon her, just enough to let her feel that she was helping him. They moved slowly through the nearest doorway, down a corridor, and into a large room. Light spilling through a high window revealed the walls of the room to be festooned with spiderwebs. Gildrum hesitated at the threshold. "How long has it been since you last visited this place?"
"A few weeks," she said. "These webs are not signs of abandonment, merely of busy spiders. They do men* best to satisfy my needs."
"How do spiderwebs satisfy your needs?" "In many ways. You shall see one of them shortly. Come, sit down; you must be exhausted from that walk."
"Somewhat exhausted," he said. The center of the room was occupied by л wide bed with thick velvet coverlet and mounds of cushions. Delivev seated Gildrum and herself upon it, and all around them the webs formed gossamer curtains. She pointed out one of the spiders, a tiny black creature sitting in the center of a web. At a gesture from its mistress, it scurried down a strand to spin a patch in a large open section of the net.
"Breezes sometimes break the silk," said Delivev, "or a bird or a snake will wander in here."
"Why don't you close off the room, then, and seal the window?"
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"How would insects enter if I did that? My spider* ?? have to eat, Mellor." She pressed him back against the cushions. "Relax now, and watch that web." She pointed to a fairly symmetrical segment of the drapery, eight strands radiating from a central point, joined by a myriad of closely spaced concentric rings. She stretched her hand out toward it, fingers splayed, palm parallel to the flat of the web, though many feet from it. Her hand moved slowly in a circular pattern, as if wiping a vertical surface with an invisible cloth. The center of the web became hazy, the strands blurring together into a uniform gray sheen, and upon that sheen dim shapes began to coalesce. As from a great distance, voices sounded hi the web-draped room, then- words indistinct at first but growing clearer, as if the speakers approached. The dun shapes turned into men, and their lips moved to match then1 voices. Gildrum and Delivev viewed a scene in the main hall of some castle as they would see through a window into the courtyard of Castle Spinweb.
"Pay no attention to their conversation," said Delivev. "Those two never discuss anything interesting. But there in the backЧ" One slim finger pointed to the left side of the scene. "There is the troubadour who is spending this season at the Castle of Three Towers. He will sing soon; it is almost time for dinner there.**
"How are we seeing him?" asked Gildrum.
"There is a spiderweb on the wall beside the fireplace. The scullery maid cleans it off occasionally, but the spider keeps spinning afresh. It is a very industrious spider. The troubadour doesn't know that ft hides in his pack every time he travels to a new castle."
"We are seeing this through that spiderweb?"
"Yes. And hearing, too. Ah, listen now; he is really ' quite a good singer." She leaned back on the cushions beside him and closed her eyes for the music. "You see," she said between songs, "I am not so isolated as you thought."
"Can you see anywhere in the world?"