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

"DON'T," bellowed the general, "TELL MEтАФ" He
took a deep breath. A soldier clattered into the room,
then seeing it was only the general exploding, he
backed out.
"тАФabout Hermes Trismegistus," finished Pardo.
Damiano stood pale and staring, like a man who has
broken through ice into cold water.
"Why?" he asked in a small voice. "Why not
Hermes?"
The general shifted in his seat. A smile spread
across his features. "Because, boy, I have heard enough
about Hermes Trismegistus and the quest of alchemy to
last me three lifetimes. Florence is riddled with fusty
old men who claim they can turn lead into gold. Venice
is almost as bad." He turned a gray-eyed hawk glance
on Damiano. "Avignon... is beyond help.
"You are too young and healthy to be an alchemist,
Signor Delstrego. Also too clean. Can you turn lead
into gold?"
"Not.. .in any great quantity," answered Damiano,
embarrassed.
"Can you at all?" pursued the general.
Damiano sighed and fingered his staff. It was his
burden that many of the goals of alchemy he found
easier to accomplish using the tools of his father rather
than those of the sainted Hermes.
"My methods are not pure"тАФhe temporizedтАФ"and
the amount of labor involved is..."
Pardo swung his legs down from the stool and
glared at the youth in frustration. "What I want to
know, boy, is HAVE YOU POWER?"
Pardo had an immense voice and was used to
commanding large numbers of men on the battlefield.
But Damiano was no longer used to being commanded.
The bellowing raised in him an answering anger. His
fingers tightened upon the black wood of his staff.
Without warning the air was filled with booming,
as every door and shutter in the building slammed
back upon its hinges. Sparks crackled in the folds of
Damiano's woolen robe. The light wooden door of the
audience chamber trembled for half a minute. A cloud
of plaster dust fell.
Pardo regarded it calmly. "I could feel that," he
remarked, "in my ears."
 Damiano kept his mouth shut, feeling he had done
enough, and knowing that slamming doors would not
protect him from a regiment of swordsmen. Besides, he
was tired.
"That's what I was trying to find out," added the
general conversationally, as he nudged the stool in