"Jones, Diana Wynne - Mixed Magics" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones Diana Wynne)

"Me," Jemima Jane said, rather defiantly. "I went in my pants. It's your fault. You didn't take me to the Ladies'."

At which Towser at once sprang up, growling, and the car added, "You are running out of petrol."

The Willing Warlock groaned aloud and went squealing into Bentwell Services. The car told him reproachfully that he was wasting petrol and then added that he was running out of it, but the Willing Warlock was too far gone to attend to it. He sprang out of the car and once more tried to run away. Towser sprang out after him and fastened his teeth in the Willing Warlock's now tattered trouser leg. And Jemima Jane scrambled out after Towser.

"Take me to the Ladies'," she said. "You have to change my pants. My clean ones are in the bag at the back."

"I can't take you to the Ladies'!" the Willing Warlock said. He had no idea what to do. What did one do? You have one grown-up male Warlock, one female child, and one dog fastened to the Warlock's trouser leg that might be male or female. Did you go to the Gents' or the Ladies'? The Willing Warlock just did not know.

He had to settle for doing it publicly in the car park. It made him ill. It was the last straw. Jemima Jane gave him loud directions in a ringing bossy voice. Towser growled steadily. As he struggled with the gruesome task, the Willing Warlock heard people gathering around, sniggering. He hardly cared. He was a broken Warlock by then. When he looked up to find himself in a ring of policemen and the small man in the pin-striped suit standing just beside him, he felt nothing but extreme relief. "I'll come quietly," he said.

"Hello, Daddy!" Jemima Jane shouted. She suddenly looked enchanting, in spite of the chocolate. And Towser changed character, too, and fawned and gamboled around the small man, squeaking like a puppy.

The small man picked up Jemima Jane, chocolate and all, and looked forbiddingly at the Willing Warlock. "If you've harmed Prudence, or the dog either," he said, "you're for it, you know."

"Harmed!" the Willing Warlock said hysterically. "That child's the biggest bully in the worldЧbar that car or that dog! And the dog's a thief, too! I'm the one that's harmed! Anyway, she said her name was Jemima Jane."

"That's just a jingle I taught her, to prevent people trying name magic," the small man said, laughing rather. "The dog has a secret name anyway. All Kathayack Demon Dogs do. Do you know who I am, Warlock?"

"No," said the Willing Warlock, trying not to look respectfully at the fawning Towser. He had heard of Demon Dogs. The beast probably had more magic than he did.

"Kathusa," said the man. "Financial wizard. I'm Chrestomanci's agent in this world. That crook Jean-Pierre keeps sending people here, and they all get into trouble. It's my job to pick them up. I was coming into the bank to help you, Warlock, and you go and pinch my car."

"Oh," said the Willing Warlock. The policemen coughed and began to close in. He resigned himself to a long time in prison.

But Kathusa held up a hand to stop the policemen. "See here, Warlock," he said, "you have a choice. I need a man to look after my cars and exercise Towser. You can do that and go straight, or you can go to prison. Which is it to be?"

It was a terrible choice. Towser met the Willing Warlock's eye and licked his lips. The Willing Warlock decided he preferred prison.

But Jemima JaneЧor rather PrudenceЧturned to the policemen, beaming. "He's going to look after me and Towser," she announced. "He likes his nose being pulled."

The Willing Warlock tried not to groan.

* * * * * * *


Stealer of Souls

Cat Chant was not altogether happy, either with himself or with other people. The reason was the Italian boy whom Chrestomanci had unexpectedly brought back to Chrestomanci Castle after his trip to Italy.

"Cat," said Chrestomanci, who was looking rather tired after his travels, "this is Antonio Montana. You'll find he has some very interesting magic."

Cat looked at the Italian boy, and the Italian boy held out his hand and said, "How do you do. Please call me Tonino," in excellent English, but with a slight halt at the end of each word, as if he was used to words that mostly ended in o. Cat knew at that instant that he was going to count the days until someone took Tonino back to Italy again. And he hoped someone would do it soon.

It was not just the beautiful English and the good manners. Tonino had fair hairЧthat almost grayish fair hair people usually call ash blondЧwhich Cat had never imagined an Italian could have. It looked very sophisticated, and it made Cat's hair look a crude straw color by comparison. As if this was not enough, Tonino had trusting brown eyes and a nervous expression, and he was evidently younger than Cat. He looked so sweet that Cat shook hands as quickly as he could without being rude, knowing at once that everyone would expect him to look after Tonino.

"Pleased to meet you," he lied.