"John Morressy - The Questing Of Kedrigern" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morressy John)

willing."
He took her hand and drew her down beside him, where he could look at her
without twisting his neck. She was in a smooth gown of dark green. Her black
hair was plaited in a single long braid, tied with red and gold ribbons, and a
simple golden circlet ringed her brow. Princess was a beautiful woman, and the
thought of having her seen by his old friends and colleagues was a tempting
one; particularly tempting now that she could speak with a voice befitting her
appearance, and was making such progress in her studies.
But Wizcon meant crowds. There would be welcome faces among them, guild
members he knew by name and reputation but had never met, old companions too
long unseen: all this was true. But crowds are crowds. Even nice crowds are
still crowds, and Kedrigern found crowds unsettling.
If the crowding were not enough to discourage him, he had only to think of
the horror of accommodations. At this late date it would be impossible to get
a decent room, and the price of even a hovel would be exorbitant.
And then there was the traveling. Kedrigern disliked travel almost as much
as he disliked crowds; but he consoled himself that his planned trip south
with Princess would find no mob waiting at journey's end. That traveling, at
least, would take him to repose.
With a sigh, he said, "No, my dear. We might have a bit of fun at Wizcon,
but we'd only end up starting our vacation trip exhausted. I'd sooner stay at
home and work on the counter-spell against night visitations. I've promfsed it
to old Bremborn before the solstice, and I want to get it out of the way."


"Whatever you like, Keddie. Are you ready for lunch?" Princess asked.
"I'm starving. This air does give one an appetite. Why don't we eat out
here?"
 She nodded in agreement with his suggestion, and he picked up a dainty
silver bell and rang it lightly. As he waited for the house-troll to appear,
he slipped his hand inside his tunic and touched his fingertips to the
medallion that hung around his neck. His expression grew thoughtful.
Spot came bounding into view on huge flapping feet, ears and hands waving
wildly in the speed of his passage. "Yah, yah!" the little creature cried,
bouncing up and down eagerly.
Absently, as if his mind were busy elsewhere, Kedrigern said, "We will lunch
out here, Spot. But stay a moment before you bring it."
"Is something wrong, awry, or amiss?" Princess asked.
"We're going to have a visitor. A member of the guild, I think, though I
can't imagine why anyone from the guild would be visiting us."
"It must be important."
"Not to me. I withdrew from guild affairs long ago."
"Yah?" Spot inquired.
"Be patient, Spot. I'll tell you when," Kedrigern said. He drew out the
medallion, and raising it to his eye he peered thorough the small hole at its
center, the Aperture of True Vision. He looked all around, then upward, and
fixed his gaze on a distant speck in the sky. "It's Tristaver!" he cried.
"Spot, bring an extra tankard. And more cheese. And fill the large pitcher."
The troll went careening off, and Kedrigern explained to Princess, "Tris has
always been good at shape-changing. He loves to have an excuse to fly."