"Tanya Huff - Be It Ever So Humble" - читать интересную книгу автора (Huff Tanya)

Yolanda peered at Magdelene through a cloud of pipe smoke, "Home is it? I thought you were just
staying for a while?"

"The village needs me."

"We neither need nor want you taking care of us," the older woman growled.

"Good. Because 1 wasn't planning to." Even through the smoke, she could see Yolanda's eyes
narrow. The five empty saddles had been piled by the well when the fishing fleet returned. "I'll be like
the seawall. Just another buffer against the storms." She spread her arms. "Without me, the persecutions
your people left could well follow them."

"This warlord could send others," Carlos pointed out, pulling himself to his feet on the wizard's
shoulder. "We have no way to defend ourselves."

"I can be your defenses," Magdelene insisted.

Yolanda's teeth ground against her pipe stem. "You could use your power to enslave us."

"I could ... but why would I bother?"

She sounded so sincerely puzzled that Carlos began to laugh. "She's right," he cackled. "The only
thing she'd rather do than lie in the sun is ..." Just what exactly Magdelene would rather do than lie in the
sun got lost in a violent coughing fit, but more than one stupid grin was hastily hidden. "I thought I'd
build a house on the headland," Magdelene said firmly, shooting Carlos a look that almost set him off

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again. "If no one has any objection."

"Humph." Yolanda's snort brought with it another cloud of smoke. Magdelene couldn't be sure, but
she thought there was a smile behind it. "Well, if grandfather is so certain, I've no objection." The
headman sighed. "Does anyone else wish to offer an objection?" he asked mildly. Yolanda glared at the
assembled villagers, who wisely remained silent. "In that case," he inclined his head graciously, "you
may build as you wish, Lady-wizard." Magdelene studied the designs she'd drawn on the bare rock of
the headland, then checked them against the originals in the book. Although her hair and bright-yellow
shift blew wildly about in the wind, the pages of the spellbook remained still and not one grain of fine
white sand she'd used for the parameters of her house shifted. The moment Juan returned from the beach
she'd be able to finish. She could have just lifted the last bit of sand she needed, but the boy had wanted
to help. If she let him hang around, she figured she'd eventually do something he considered worthy and
he'd let her fix his arm. She turned her face to the sun, eyes half closed in blissful anticipation of actually
having a place of her own. No more traveling and no more adventures. Adventures were highly
overrated as far as Magdelene was concerned, as they usually included uncomfortable sleeping
arrangements, primitive or nonexistent toilet facilities, and someone-or someones-in direct and often
violent opposition. "Magdelene!" Jolted out of her reverie, she squinted at the tiny figure scrambling up
the steep path from the beach. It wasn't Juan, for the child had two healthy arms he ... no, she ... flailed
about for balance. "The riders," the little girl panted as Magdelene reached down to pull her the last few
feet. "They've come back." So the warlord hadn't taken the hint. "Don't worry about it," the wizard
advised, holding a hankie to a nose obediently blown. "That's why I'm here."