"Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar 1 - Magician2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

more from the sound of his footfalls and an awareness of his presence than
from sight. Pug sensed he was on a path through the trees, for his
footsteps met no resisting brush or detritus. From where they had been
moments before, the path would be difficult to find in the daylight,
impossible at night, unless it was already known. Soon they entered a
clearing, in the midst of which sat a small stone cottage. Light shone
through a single window, and smoke rose from the chimney. They crossed the
clearing, and Pug wondered at the storm's relative mildness in this one
spot in the forest. Once before the door, the man stood to one side and
said, "You go in, boy. I must dress the pig." Nodding dumbly, Pug pushed
open the wooden door and stepped in. "Close that door, boy. You'll give me


file:///F|/rah/Raymond%20E.%20Feist/Riftwar%201%20-%20Magician.txt (7 of 462) [1/23/03 5:38:45 PM]
 file:///F|/rah/Raymond%20E.%20Feist/Riftwar%201%20-%20Magician.txt

a chill and cause me my death.' Pug jumped to obey, slamming the door
harder than he intended.

He turned, taking in the scene before him. The interior of the cottage was
a small single room. Against one wall was the fireplace, with a good- size
hearth before it. A bright, cheery fire burned, casting a warm glow. Next
to the fireplace a table sat, behind which a heavyset, yellow-robed figure
rested on a bench. His grey hair and beard nearly covered his entire head,
except for a pair of vivid blue eyes that twinkled in the firelight. A long
pipe emerged from the beard, producing heroic clouds of pale smoke
Pug knew the man. "Master Kulgan . . . was the Duke's
magician and adviser, a familiar face around the castle keep. Kulgan
leveled a gaze at Pug, then said in a deep voice, given to rich rolling
sounds and powerful tones,
"So you know me, then?"
"Yes, sir. From the castle."
"What is your name, boy from the keep?"
"Pug, Master Kulgan."
"Now I remember you." The magician absently waved his
hand.
"Do not call me 'Master,' Pug-though I am rightly called a master of my
arts,'' he said with a merry crinkling around his eyes. 'I am higher-born
than you, it is true, but not by much. Come, there is a blanket hanging by
the fire, and you are drenched. Hang your clothes to dry, then sit there."
He pointed to a bench opposite him.
Pug did as he was bid, keeping an eye on the magician the entire
tIme. He was a member of the Duke's court, but still a magician, an object
of suspicion, generally held in low esteem by the common folk. If a lirmer
had a cow calve a monster, or blight strike the crops, villagers were apt
to ascribe it to the work of some magician lurking in nearby shadows. In
times not too far past they would have stoned Kulgan from Crydee as like as
not. His position with the Duke earned him the tolerance of the townsfolk
now, but old fears died slowly. After his garments were hung, Pug sat down.
He started when he saw a pair of red eyes regarding him from just beyond