"Hawke, Simon - Sorcerer 3 - The Ambivalent Magician" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

There was a tremendous crash as Teddy the troll tripped over some ancient vellum
tomes that had fallen to the floor and knocked into the table, dislodging the
scrying crystal from its ornate pedestal and causing it to roll across the table
and plummet to the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.
"Ooops," said Teddy.
"You miserable, misbegotten warthog! Now see what you've done!" Warrick shouted
angrily, his chair crashing to the floor as he jumped to his feet and fixed a
baleful glare on the frightened little troll.
"Forgive me, Master! I... I didn't mean it! It was an accident!"
"I think not," said Warrick, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "'Twas the
Narrator, working his wiles upon you to interfere with me. I begin to see the
method in his craft. He strikes at me through you."
"But, Master, I would never betray you!"
"No, not willingly," Warrick replied, "but your will is too weak to resist the
powers of the Narrator. So long as you remain with me, he can use you as a
weapon with which to thwart my plans. That leaves me with no choice. I must be
rid of you."
"Master..." the little troll said fearfully. "Master, please! I have always
served you faithfully!"
"And in reward for your years of faithful service, I shall not take your life,"
said Warrick. "But henceforth, Teddy, you are banished from my presence. Go.
Leave me. You are free."
"But, Master ..." wailed the little troll miserably, "where shall I go? What
shall I do?"
"I don't know, go hide under a bridge or something. Isn't that what trolls
usually do?"
"Under a bridge?" said Teddy. "But, Master, 'tis cold and damp underneath
bridges! I shall catch a chill! And however shall I live?"
"Eat billy goats," said Warrick. "Consume the occasional small child. There are
plenty of them running about unsupervised, painting graffiti on the bridges. You
would only be doing the kingdom a service if you ate them. I'm sure no one would
complain. Now get along, Teddy, I have work to do."
"Master, please ... don't send me away!" wailed Teddy. "I don't even like
children!"
"You have a very simple choice, Teddy," Warrick said. "You may either take your
freedom and go make something of yourself, or become the subject of my next
experiment."
"No, Master, anything but that!" cried Teddy, with an alarmed glance at the
strange and frightening apparatus that sat in the center of Warrick's sanctorum.
"Then go. I grant you your freedom. The Narrator shall trouble you no longer.
And as soon as I fetch my spare scrying crystal, we shall see who must prevail
in this battle of wills."
Warrick turned to get his spare scrying crystal from the carved wooden armoire
where he kept his magical supplies, but as he opened it and withdrew his spare
crystal ball, a punishing blow struck him from behind. He grunted and collapsed
to the floor, unconscious. The crystal fell and shattered into a hundred
thousand pieces.
"Oh, no!" said Teddy, staring with dismay at the broomstick with which he had
just brained his former master. "What have I done?" Dropping the broom, he
bolted out of the sanctorum, fleeing in panic.