"Manly, Peter L - Dragon Three Two Niner" - читать интересную книгу автора (Manly Peter L)

"OK. I'll call again tomorrow afternoon. Anything going on that I should know about?"

"Well, your sister Katrashkip stormed out of here right after you did."

"Oh, any reason why?"

"Well, the scuttlebutt around the lackeys' quarters is that she thinks you're going to use the gown to enchant the prince yourself. She's flying to Dark Castle to stop you."

"Great! All I need is old Horseface mucking around while I'm making delicate negotiations with a feisty sorcerer."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing, Lizzie. Look, just tell Pops-ah, the Baron-that I've arrived safely and will call tomorrow. OK?"

"OK. Have a nice day."

"Lizzie, how many times have I instructed you not to tell me what kind of day to have?"

"Uh, three?"

"More like three hundred. Good-bye."

I went to the next room, anticipating a long relaxing soak. There were perfumed scents and soaps handy. There was a glass of chilled wine by the tub. There were soft dry robes waiting. Unfortunately, in the center of it all was my elder sister Katrashkip, her bony shoulders and fatty thighs submerged in the tub which I had ordered. One look at me and she threw a bottle of scent, screaming, "You think you can sneak off with my magic gown and capture the heart of the Prince? Well, you've got another thing coming, you little ... you little ... you little ...!" I calmly closed and lock-spelled the door to the bathroom, and picked up the room's empathy shell. "Front desk? I'd like a different room, please. Yes. Preferably one without a screaming demon in the bathtub. Thank you. I'll return the key on my way down to the dragon rookery. And please have my things moved. Thank you again." I'm going to be really glad when she does marry some poor hapless prince and is out of my way once and for all. The walk down to the dragon rookery was cool, the sea breeze bringing a salt tang to my nostrils. As I approached Georgine's cove, she rumbled with pleasure. She even stopped eating for a few moments while I rubbed the spot behind her ears which causes her to go limp. After a while, the half-roasted pig arrived; Georgine smelled it long before she saw it. Her humming rumble reverberated throughout the cavern and she sat up, her tail banging against the wall with a solid thumping sound. It was at times like these, after a long and successful journey, that the bond between dragon and rider was cemented. I sat leaning against one of her large legs as she slowly finished roasting the pig to perfection. Then with my dagger I cut off a token slice and left the rest to her. Since I had missed dinner, I made my token a bit larger than usual, but Georgine, ever the grand hostess, did not begrudge me the extra meat. The leather flagon of wine I had brought added the last touch to a perfect meal. Soon, Georgine was lying on her bloated stomach, snoring peacefully at about two point eight on the Richter scale. I was becoming drowsy myself, so I quietly stole away and headed for the hotel. After I'd gotten my new room key and was heading toward the stairway, I was confronted by a rather garishly dressed fop with ladies of questionable merit on either arm. He was obviously drunk. He let one of them go and reeled toward me, slurring, "Hey, baby! You wanna grab a little gusto?" He wrapped his arm around me and placed his hand on a portion of my anatomy normally reserved for sitting. If I'd been able to reach my dagger, he'd have pulled back a bloody stump. As it was, I merely loosened several cartilage joints in his wrist, then returned his hand to a more polite location, saying, "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's gustoes that are ..." I looked at his midsection "... little!" It made my day.

The room was better this time, and the bath was excellent. After a long day traveling, it was comforting to know that Georgine was well bedded down and all I had to do was relax. As I stood on the balcony, wrapped in a long warm robe, I finished the last of the wine and felt at peace. Sleep came swiftly, and the morning slowly.

I was up early, as usual, and checked on Georgine. She was too bloated to fly now, but tomorrow we'd make a short flight for the exercise, and just for the fun of it. I made a note to find somebody else to fly with. Perhaps they would know the good soaring areas locally.

After breakfast, I set out along the narrow passageways above the market to find the old sorcerer. The scents and sounds of foreign traders arose from the stalls and tables of the hawkers, following me through the slim corridors of the ancient guilds. Finally, I reached the crooked door of the sorcerer. I could sense a lock spell on it, so I knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again. The lock spell wavered, then held steady. Somebody or something had moved through the field: probably someone on the other side of the door, looking at me through a spy-hole. I knocked again and waited. Finally, I shouted, "I'm going away to get a good book and something to eat. Then I shall come back, sit on your step, take my meal, and read until I finish the book." There was no answer. "Then I'll get another book and come back."

The spell disappeared and the door creaked open. There were cobwebs across the opening, as if nobody had entered the sorcerer's shop in a long time. The dark room was mostly empty, but the hearth smelled of recent use. On the mantel was an owl. I couldn't tell if it was stuffed or alive, so I watched it for more than a minute until it blinked. Alive, then. I scanned the musty interior, noting the vials and potions lining the walls.

"All right," I said to nobody in particular. "When do I see you?" I waited in silence, the owl watching my every move. Near the window was a tall stool, and I sidled over to it. As I sat down, I called out, "Remember, I am prepared to spend a long, long time waiting." After another minute, a short balding man came bustling through a doorway from the back and said, "The sorcerer will not be able to see you today. Perhaps tomorrow. Now please ..." He was motioning to me with his hands, almost as if he were guiding a flock of chickens. "I must ask you to leave. He is a very busy man. An appointment is required. The proceduies, you know ..." I could feel the power in the funny little man and knew he was the sorcerer. The fact that he did not have an assistant to shoo me out bespoke only his poverty. In an age of increasing technology, magicians and sorcerers were falling on hard times. I reached into my pouch and withdrew a large gold coin. He didn't notice it until I spoke his name: "Fastasertine!" Knowing a sorcerer's true name deprives him of some of his power over you. It was only a quirk of luck that he had, in his younger days, tried to bed a Priestess of Imbriana, and she had, in later days, given the secret to me. He froze and said, "You guess!" His eyes locked on the gold piece as they would devour a lover. I smiled and countered, "I know, Fastasertine!" I know who you are, and I know how much you want this gold piece. It would warm you in the winter, lend power to your spells, and ward off the cold fate of age which gnaws at your bones." The sorcerer licked his lips and asked, "What is it you want?"

"A simple task, really. I have a magic gown. She who wears it is irresistible. Unfortunately, some magician has put a spell on it, rendering it useless. I need the spell removed." A light beamed in the sorcerer's eye, "Surely you have no need of such a gown, for you are indeed irresistible."

"The gown is not for me. It is for my sister. She wishes to wed the Prince of Dark Castle." The sorcerer cast his eyes downward and said, "My lady, I am perfectly willing to remove the spell, but first I must warn you. The Prince is not... Well, he just hasn't... I mean, perhaps he is not the right man for your lovely sister. The prince is, in fact, a weakling, a drunkard and a womanizer. Only last night, some wench in the hotel broke his wrist-and he had two other hussies with him at the time. I was called to mend the bones this morning and the harlots were still with him. I pray that you warn your sister of his ways. Perhaps if you were to meet him yourself..."

"We've met. Now break the spell." I was removing the gown from my pack. It was a quite ordinary ball gown, neither too revealing nor too prim. I could, however, feel the power of the enchantment in the garment.

The old man took it. He felt it, sniffed it, closed his eyes and ran his hands over it. "The gown is ancient. Hundreds of queens and princesses have used it to gain power. Others have used and misused its enchantment. Adulteresses have worn it more often than maids. There is much sorrow and misery in the gown, much more than there is happiness. Are you sure that it is wise to break the spell blocking the gown's use?"

"Positive. You haven't met my sister. She needs it."

He chuckled and replied, "Probably not as badly as the poor wench I met at the hotel this morning. The face of a beaver combined with a gargoyle, the chest of a dead man, and the hips of a rhinoceros. Now she could ..."

"Then you've met her." Nobody else could possibly fit that description.

"Oh my," he chuckled, "the prince would really get what he deserved." He thought for a moment. "But is that fair to your poor sister? Although she may look..."