"Greenwood, Ed - Elminster 05 - Elminster's Daughter_v1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenwood Ed)

As the old cook advanced, the boy's voice rose in a terrified squeak as
that shining steel rose coldly to touch his nose, "-- and before all the
gods I swear I know not what I've done to offend what'd I do wrong sorry
sorry what lord?"

"Huh," Phaerorn said in disgust. "This is the spine they send me, these
days. This is the eloquence of the young who'll shine so bright an' save
us all."

He turned away -- then spun so swiftly and smoothly that Naviskurr
shrieked, pointed with his cleaver at the three baskets the lad had
already set down, and growled, "How many times have I told ye nothing is
to be set against that door, lad? Nothing!"

Naviskurr looked, blinked, set down the fourth basket where he stood,
and hastily went to shift the three offending ones, grumbling, "Sorry,
Master Phaerorn, sir... but 'tis no more than an old door. We never open
it, never use it..."

He dragged the baskets aside and straightened with a grunt to regard the
nail-studded old door here in the dingiest corner of the Rain Bird
Rooming House kitchens. Peeling blue paint on rough, wide planks,
adorned with an admittedly impressive relief carving: a long, flowing
face of a beak-nosed, bearded man that Naviskurr had privately dubbed
"The Stunned Old Wizard."

Naviskurr scowled at its perpetual sly smile. "So why must we keep
everything clear of it, anyway?"

The carving flickered, glowing with a light that had never been there
before -- and even before the scullery knave could stagger back or cry
the fear kindling in him, the face seemed to thrust forward, out of the
door!

It was attached, Naviskurr saw as he gulped and scrambled away, waving
vainly at Master Phaerorn, to a swift-striding man -- a hawk-nosed,
bearded, long-haired old man in none-too-clean robes. The man flowed out
of the closed door, leaving it carving-adorned and unchanged in his
wake.

Merry blue-gray eyes darted a glance at the gaping kitchen lad from
under dark brows and gave him a wink ere turning to favor old Phaerorn
with a nod, a wave, and the words, "Thy son's working out just fine in
Suzail, Forn, and looking likely to be wedded by full spring, if he's
not careful!"

The old cook's jaw dropped, his eyes widened with delight -- and the
briskly walking visitor was gone, a curved pipe floating along in his
wake like some sort of patient snake.