"Dave Luckett - The Girl The Dragon And The Wild Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Luckett Dave)

Her teacher sighed. "I must admit, I can't understand it. Your work is neat and clear. You understand all
the amounts... look, three-and-a-half scruples of butterfly-wing dust plus three quarters of a drachm of
thistledown sap makes just about a pinch..."

"It makes exactly a pinch!" Rhianna was stung. The table showing the amounts had been clear in the
book. Difficult, mind you. She wished all the measures could go evenly into each other, but all the
same.... She looked up. Mrs. Greenapple was shaking her head.

"How many times must we go over this, Rhianna?" she asked. "There is no such thing as 'exactly a pinch.'
Nothing is exact in magic! Everyone's pinch is different. Far more important than the pinch is what it's a
pinch of. That's what you were asked about. This is the base for a simple flying ointment. And what did
you say it was? 'One pinch of gray goo.' Really!"

"Well, that's what it looked like," muttered Rhianna.

Mrs. Greenapple's face became grim. "Since when," she asked carefully, "has anything ever been what it
looks like in magic?"

Rhianna looked down again. There was something about that question that set her teeth on edge. Why
shouldn't things be what they looked like? Why should everything be vague and fuzzy and not exact?

But it was no use scowling. Mrs. Greenapple shook her head again. "Well," she said, "I think we need to
talk to your parents, Rhianna. I wouldn't mind so much if you just forgot things. Still less if you just got a
few of the words wrong or left out a gesture when working a spell. But this is far worse. It's as if you had
everything around the wrong way, as if you... as if you didn't think magic was real. As if you thought
there was some other way to make things work." She watched Rhianna's face, what she could see of it.
When nothing more happened after a few moments, she sighed. "All right, Rhianna. I don't think there is
anything more to be said now. I'll be sending a letter home. Go and have your lunch."

Rhianna trudged out, still scowling.

Rose was waiting for her in their usual place. Rhianna plumped herself down and opened her lunch
basket.

"How bad was it?" asked Rose.

"The usual," said Rhianna, trying to look unconcerned. "You know, 'Rhianna, you have to remember
that nothing is what it seems to be. Nothing adds up. Nothing is right.' Why can't things say what
they mean, and mean what they say?"

"Well," said Rose, considering, "I suppose it's because they don't in magic."

"Don't you start."

"I'm not starting. You asked me, I told you."

This was so true that Rhianna had nothing to say to it. Her pie was suddenly tasteless, though it was kept
fresh by her mother's own spell. She dropped it back in her basket.

Mrs. Greenapple would be writing that letter already, and the sending spell would have it at Rhianna's