"Mercedes Lackey - Last Herald Mage 3 - Magic's Price" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

"Stef didn't know I was in the room; came in and started practicing. I started to open my mouth
to chase him out, I figured that was the last thing I needed, but after the first two notes I couldn't feel
any headache. Point of fact, I fell asleep." Medren leaned forward, and his words tumbled out as he
tried to tell Vanyel everything at once. "I woke up when he finished, he was putting his gittern away, and
the headache was coming back. Managed to gabble something out before he got away from me, and we
tried it again. Damned if I didn't fall asleep again."
"That could have been those awful herbal teas the Healers seem to set such store by," Vanyel
reminded him. "They put me to sleep -"
"Put you to sleep, sure, but they don't do much about the head. Besides, we thought of that. Got
at Breda when I cured up, told her, got her to agree to play victim next time she had one of her
dazzle-headaches, and it worked for her, too." He took a deep breath, and looked at Vanyel
expectantly.
"It did?" Vanyel was impressed despite his skepticism. Breda, as someone with the Bardic Gift,
wasn't easily influenced by the illusions a strong Gift could weave. Besides, so far as he knew, nothing
short of a dangerous concoction of wheat-smut could ease the pain of one of her dazzle-headaches.
Medren spread his hands. "Damned if I know how he does it, Van. But Stef's had a way of
surprising us over at Bardic about once a week. Only eighteen, and he's about to make Full Bard. Just
may beat me to it. Anyway, you were telling me how Randale hates to take those pain-drugs because
they make him muddled -"
"But can't endure more than an hour without them, yes, I remember." Vanyel threw the abused
boots in the corner and leaned forward on his bed, crossing his arms. "I take it you think we can use this
Stefen instead of the drugs? I'm not sure that would work, Medren - the reason Randi hates the drugs is
that his concentration goes to pieces under them. How can he do anything and listen to your friend at the
same time?"
Medren swatted the curtains away again, jumped to his feet and began pacing restlessly, keeping
his eyes on Vanyel. "That's the whole beauty of it - this Wild Talent of his seems to work whether you're
consciously listening or not. Honest, Van, I thought this out - I mean, if it would work when Breda and I
were asleep, it should work under any circumstances."
Vanyel stood up, slowly. This Wild Talent of Stefen's might not help - but then again, it might. It
was worth trying. These days anything was worth trying. . . .
And they had tried anything and everything once the Healers had confessed themselves baffled.
Hot springs, mud baths, diets that varied from little more than leaves and raw grains to nothing but raw
meat. There had been no signs of a cure, no signs of improvement, just increasing pain and a steadily
growing weakness. Nothing had helped Randale in the last year, not even for a candlemark. Nothing but
the debilitating, mind-numbing drugs that Randi hated.
"Let's go talk to Breda," Van said abruptly, kneeling and fishing his outdoor boots out from under
the bed. He looked up to catch Medren's elated grin. "Don't get excited," he warned. "I know you're
convinced, but this may be nothing more than pain-sharing, and Randi's past the point where that's at all
effective." He stood up, boots in hand, and pulled them on over his damp stockings. "But as you pointed
out, it's worth trying. Astera knows we've tried stranger things."
Medren kept pace with his uncle easily, despite Vanyel's longer legs and ground-devouring
strides. After all, he had just spent his Journeyman period completely afoot, in the wild northlands, where
villages were weeks apart. Fortunately it was also the shortest Journeyman trial in the history of
the Collegium, he reflected wryly, recalling his aching feet, sore back, and the nights he spent half-frozen
in his little tent-shelter. And it wasn't even winter yet! Three months up there gave me enough
material for a hundred songs. Although so far half of them seem to be about poor souls freezing to
death -
Medren watched his uncle out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his feelings, but he couldn't
tell what Van was thinking. In that, as in any number of things, Vanyel hadn't changed much in the past
few years, though he had altered subtly from the uncle Medren had first encountered.