"Phyllis Eisenstein - Elementals 02 - The Crystal Palace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eisenstein Phyllis)

this principle in his very being, Cray was able to use it to make living things grow and change, to make a
thick forest out of ashes, to make a new kind of tree blossom in DelivevтАЩs garden.

Glancing sidelong at his mother, Cray smiled. The sorcerer to whom he had once apprenticed, Rezhyk
the demon master, had scorned DelivevтАЩs powers. He had thought his own metallurgical skills superior to
anything governing mere cloth and spiders. But if he had known where weaving could lead, he would
never have been so arrogant.

Yet metallurgical sorcery had its strengths, not the least of them demon mastery. The smelting of power
into a handful of rings could give a sorcerer absolute control over as many demon slaves. He could
com-mand them to fetch whatever he desired, to build any edifice, to destroy any person or thing, and
through them he had access to the vast knowledge that lay in the demon worlds of Fire, Ice, Air, and
Water. Cray knew that sort of magic, but though he had cast hun-dreds of rings in his years of sorcery,
he had done so only to give eternal freedom to their demons. He wanted no demon slaves. The raw
metal itself was what he wished to command.

As in the tree which, just now, was the center of his life.

He sighed as he looked at it. It seemed such a poor, feeble thing, with its spindly boughs and sparse
fo-liage. Yet, Cray thought, if sparkle pleased the eye, if an individual leaf or blossom could compensate
in some part for the flaws of the whole, then the tree was not a complete failure. Gently, as if it were a
small animal that could respond to his affection, he caressed the flower that he held, and the branch that
bore it. Then he let them bob away, and he sighed again.

тАЬItтАЩs so lovely,тАЭ said his mother.
He shrugged. тАЬIтАЩm glad it pleases you. I wish it pleased me more.тАЭ

She slipped an arm about his shoulders. тАЬHave pa-tience, my son. This is a new kind of magic for you,
and you canтАЩt expect perfection all at once. IтАЩd hate to tell you what my first tapestries looked like. There
can be other trees, as many trees as you wish, as much practice as you need.тАЭ

He shook his head. тАЬIтАЩm not finished with this one, yet.тАЭ

She looked up at the tree, its top scarcely half again as high as her own head. тАЬWhat more is there to
do? It wonтАЩt grow any larger.тАЭ

тАЬNo. But it can bloom.тАЭ

Delivev looked at him quizzically, then waved a hand at the tree, as if to say that it had bloomed already.

тАЬYouтАЩll see,тАЭ he told her. And he would speak of the matter no further.

They were dining in the garden at sunset, two beeswax candles lighting the meal, when a flame appeared
in the sky above them. A ball of yellow fire the size of a horse, it swooped down to settle beside their
table, banishing dusk from the garden but shedding no heat. In a moment, it had begun to elongate and to
pinch in at the middle, and then its glow faded as it transformed into a tall young man with dark hair and
ruddy cheeks. He was Gildrum, a Fire demon set eternally free by Cray Ormoru. Over one shoulder he
carried a sack almost as large as himself.

Gildrum threw his burden down and, smiling, opened his arms to Delivev. They embraced, two ageless