"FEIST, Raymond E - The RiftWar Saga - 1 - Magican" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

so, than mine. But if you wish to return to the world of Pug and Tomas,
to rediscover old friends and forgotten adventure, then consider this
edition your opportunity to see a bit more than the last time. And to
the new reader, welcome. I trust you'll find this work to your satisfaction
It is with profound gratitude I wish to thank you all, new readers and
old acquaintances, for without your support and encouragement, ten
years of "ripping yarns" could not have been possible. If I have the
opportunity to provide you with a small part of the pleasure I feel in
being able to share my fanciful adventures with you, we are equally
rewarded, for by your embracing my works you have allowed me to
fashion more. Without you there would have been no Silverthorn, A
Darkness at Sethanon, Faerie Tale, and no Empire Trilogy. The letters get
read, if not answered-even if they sometimes take months to reach me
and the kind remarks, in passing at public appearances, have enriched
me beyond measure. But most of all, you gave me the freedom to
' practice a craft that was begun to '"see if I could do it," while working at
the Residence halls of John Muir College at UCSD.
So, thank you. I guess I did it." And with this work, I hope you'll
agree that this time I did it a little more elegantly, with a little more
color, weight, and resonance.

RAYmOND E. FEIST
San Diago, California
August 1991
MAGICIAN
BooK I
1
Storm



tHE STORM hAD BROKEN. Pug danced along the edge of the rocks, his feet
finding scant purchase as he made his way among the tide pools. His dark
eyes darted about as he peered into each pool under the cliff face, seeking
the spiny creatures driven into the shallows by the recently passed storm.
His boyish muscles bunched under his light shirt as he shifted the sack of
sandcrawlers, rockclaws, and crabs plucked from this water garden. The
afternoon sun sent sparkles through the sea spray swirling around him, as
the west wind blew his sun-streaked brown hair about. Pug set his sack
down, checked to make sure it was securely tied, then squatted on a clear
patch of sand. The sack was not quite full, but Pug relished the extra hour
or so that he could relax. Megar the cook wouldn't trouble him about the
time as long as the sack was almost full. Resting with his back against a
large rock, Pug was soon dozing in the sun's warmth. A cool wet spray woke
him hours later. He opened his eyes with a start, knowing he had stayed
much too long. Westward, over the sea, dark thunderheads were forming above
the black outline of the Six Sisters, the small islands on the horizon. The
roiling, surging clouds, with rain trailing below like some sooty veil,
heralded another of the sudden storms common to this part of the coast in
early summer.