"Foster, Alan Dean - Spellsinger 3 - Day Of Dissonance - uc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

"I'm dying," Clothahump wheezed. The wizard glanced
to his left. 'Tm dying and you stand there gawking like a
virginal adolescent who's just discovered that his blind
date is a noted courtesan. With your kind of help I'll never
live to see my three-hundredth birthday."

"With your kind of attitude it's a wonder you've man-
aged to live this long." Jon-Tom was more than a little
irritated at his mentor. "Listen to yourself: two weeks of
nonstop griping and whining. You know what you are,
turtle of a wizardly mien? You're a damned hypochondriac.''

Clothahump's face did not permit him much of a frown,
but he studied the tall young human warily. "What is that?
It sounds vaguely like a swear word. Don't toy with me,
boy, or it will go hard on you. What is it? Some magic
word from your own world?"

"More like a medical word. It's a descriptive term, not
a threat. It refers to someone who thinks they're sick all
the time, when they're not."

"Oh, so I'm imagining that my head is fragmenting, is
that what you're saying?" Jon-Tom resisted the urge to



2 Alan Dean Foster

reply, sat his six-feet-plus frame down near the pile of
pillows that served the old turtle for a bed.

Not for the first time he wondered at the number of
spacious rooms the old oak tree encompassed. There were
more alcoves and chambers and tunnels in that single trunk
than in a termite's hive.

He had to admit, though, that despite his melodramatic
moans and wails, the wizard didn't look like himself. His
plastron had lost its normal healthy luster, and the old eyes
behind the granny glasses were rheumy with tears from the
pain. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so abrupt. If
Clothahump couldn't cure himself with his own masterly
potions and spells, then he was well and truly ill.

"I know what I am," Clothahump continued, "but
what of you? A fine spellsinger you've turned out to be."

"I'm still learning," Jon-Tom replied defensively. He
fingered the duar slung over his shoulder. The peculiar