"Hawke, Simon - Sorcerer 2 - The Inadequate Adept" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

THE INADEQUATE ADEPTTHE INADEQUATE ADEPT

Copyright й 1993 by Simon Hawke
e-book ver. 1.0

For Leanne Christine Harper,
with special thanks to Pat McGiveney, Darla Dunn, Doug and Tomi Lewis of The
Little Bookshop of Horrors in Arvada, Co., Joe DeRose and the staff of Muddy's
Cafe in Denver, Co., H. Trask Emery, David Marringly, Brian Thomsen, Mauro
DiPreta, Fred Cleaver, Chris Zinck, the Mad Scientists Club of Denver and all
the understanding friends who supported me during this madness. You all know who
you are, and some of you have asked not to be identified. It's okay, I
understand.

CHAPTER ONE


Once upon a time...
No. Let's try that again.
Long, long ago, in a universe far, far away...
Nah, that doesn't work, either.
Oh, hell, you think it's easy being the narrator? You try it. Only don't send
your manuscripts to me, whatever you do. I've got enough problems of my own.
Such as trying to figure out how to begin this book, for instance.
Let's see now, according to conventional wisdom, you're supposed to begin a
story with a narrative hook. What's a narrative hook, you ask? It's a slam-bang
opening sentence that's so compelling, it "hooks" your interest right away and
makes it damn near impossible not to read on further. Well... I guess I've
already blown that.
On the other hand, another tried-and-true technique is to get into the action
right away, just plunge the reader headfirst into the story with the speed of an
express train and never let up for an instant. Hmmm... too late for that, I
suppose.
Well, there's always the classic approach used by all those literary authors.
You know, Dickens and that whole crowd. First, you set the scene with lots of
colorful, evocative, descriptive writing, then you gradually introduce the main
characters as you develop the plot, but then that's a rather dated approach and
modern readers aren't really all that patient with-
"Get on with it," said Warrick.
What?
"I said, get on with it," Warrick Morgannan repeated, looking up toward the
ceiling as he sat behind his massive desk, bent over his ancient vellum tomes
and scrolls.
"Get on with what, Master?" asked his troll familiar, Teddy.
"I wasn't speaking to you," said Warrick.
The hairy, little troll glanced around the sorcerer's sanctorum apprehensively,
noting that the two of them seemed to be alone.
"But, Master..." he whined, plaintively, "there is no one else here!"
"Of course, there is no one else here," snapped Warrick irritably. "I was
speaking to the voice in the ether."