"02 - An Excess of Enchantments" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Craig Shaw)

The Brownie stood there, waiting expectantly.

"Thank you," Wuntvor said at last, not knowing what was expected of him.

"Aren't you going to ask why?" the Brownie demanded, tapping his tiny foot.

"Why?" Wuntvor obliged.

"Yes," the Brownie agreed. "Why is it your lucky day! Oh, I guess you did ask. Pardon me. My mistake. Performance nerves, I guess. Well, it is your lucky day because you are to be granted seven wishes."

"Seven wishes?" Wuntvor asked.

The Brownie nodded.

"I thought the usual was three," the lad stated.

The Brownie nodded.

"Then why seven?" Wuntvor inquired.

"We're running a special!" the Brownie exclaimed.

"Oh," Wuntvor replied.

"Well, aren't you surprised? Aren't you excited?"

"I guess so," Wuntvor responded, not really sure of anything. He had the nagging feeling that he had been here, or a place very much like here, sometime before.

What was that? Somewhere, in the distance, Wuntvor heard voices arguing. An elderly woman was complaining about how no one understood artists.

"Once upon a time," Wuntvor said. He blinked1. "Seven wishes? You're really going to give me seven wishes?" He looked down at the little man in wonder.

"That's more like it," the Brownie replied. "I mean we wee folk expect some enthusiasm for our efforts, you know? That's right, seven wishes for anything you want!"

Anything he wanted? The lad was quite impressed with this

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opportunity, although he was the slightest bit scared as well. Seven wishes were a mighty responsibility, and Wuntvor knew all the old stories about farmers and fishermen receiving wishes and squandering them on puddings and the like. He would have to think about this, for he was a young man, abroad to seek his fortune, and this seven wishes thing might be just the chance he was looking for. But, even though he had more than the usual three, Wuntvor knew he would have to use every wish wisely.

"Well," the Brownie said, foot once again tapping. "I'm waiting."

' 'Uh--'' Wuntvor replied in surprise.' 'I have to start wishing now?"

"Hey, give me a break. You've got seven wishes, here. We Brownies have things to do. Time is shoes, you know!"

Oh, well, Wuntvor thought. Why not? He had to start this wish business some time. He'd have to make the first one a good one.

"Indeed," he began, for that word seemed to help him to think. "I--um--wish I had a stout weapon to protect me from danger."