"R. A. MacAvoy - Damiano" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacAvoy R A)

The sentry grunted and stepped aside. Damiano
passed through, leaning a bit on his staff, allowing any
casual observer to believe he was lame.
"Not with that," spoke the soldier, and Damiano
paused again. He could not lie barefacedly and tell the
man he needed the stick to walk, but he was also not
willing to be parted from it. He squinted nearsightedly
at the guard, mustering arguments. But the guard
pointed downward. "The general doesn't want to see
your dog."
Macchiata's hackles rose, and she growled in her
throat. "It's all right," Damiano said softly to her. "You
can wait outside for me. And for your sake, do it
quietly!" The dog lumbered out the door, watched by
the amused guard, and Damiano proceeded into the
hall.
 General Pardo was the sort who looked good in
black, being hard, neatly built, and of strong color. His
height was impossible to judge as he sat slumped in
the corner of an ornate bench-pew, his legs propped on
a stool beside it. He was dusty, and his face sun-
weathered. He regarded Damiano in a manner that
was too matter-of-fact to be called arrogant. Damiano
bowed from the waist.
"You are the wizard?" began Pardo. To Damiano's
surprise, the general addressed him in a clear Latin.
The young man paused. He always corrected peo-
ple who called him witch, though everyone called him
witch. No man had ever before called him a wizard.
The word was one Damiano had only read in books. It
rang better than witch in the ears, but it also sounded
paganтАФespecially in Latin. It did not seem right to
begin his conversation with General Pardo thinking
him a pagan, and yet it wasn't politic to begin matters
by correcting the general. "I am Delstrego," he replied
finally, knowing that at least his Latin accent was above
reproach.
"Not a wizard?" The question was sharp.
"I a m . . . an alchemist."
Pardo's response was unsettling. His mouth tight-
ened. He turned his head away. It was as though
something nauseated him. "Deus! An alchemist," he
muttered in southern-accented Italian. "Just what I
need."
Damiano leaned against his staff, puzzled. He also
dropped into Italian: the Italian of the Alps, heavily
flavored with French. "An alchemist seeks only to com-
prehend matter and spirit, and to raise each to the
highest level, using the methods of Hermes Trismegis-
tus..."