"Pierce, Tamora - The Circle Opens 01 - Magic Steps" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pierce Tamora)

"Told you it was easy," the old woman said, watching his feet move, "You ready?"
He would have said he wasn't, not yet exactly, but the drummer and the flute
player began that catchy tune in earnest, and his body wanted to dance. He
stepped lightly into the first square on the net closest to him and marked the
corners with his toes, his legs flicking across each other. It was a jig of
sorts, and he always liked jigs. He locked his hands behind his back, keeping
them firmly out of his way as the drum pounded and the flute trilled.
Square by square he called the fish, and he felt them answer, their tails
flicking through the squares as his feet did. Oddly, his legs and feet were so
warm they seemed almost fiery, though the warmth only came as high as his waist.
It wasn't an uncomfortable warmthЧif anything, It gave him strength.
When he finished, he did it by leaping from, the last square and coming down,
feet together, as light as any wisp of silk The music stopped. He bowed to Osas
grand mother, because it seemed like the right thing to do.
The sound of hands clapping made all of them, Pasco and the fisherfolk, turn. A
party of riders had come onto the sand while Pasco was dancing.
Who was mad enough to be riding at this hour? Pasco wondered. He squinted at
them, then gulped. His grace the duke of Emelan and the prettiest lady Pasco had
ever seen were applauding him.
Chapter 2
The lady dismounted from her horse and walked over. She was just an inch shorter
than Pasco's own five feet five inches, but the way she held herself, back
perfectly straight and head high, made her seem taller. She had a button of a
nose, eyes of the brightest blue, and an open, friendly smile.
Blessed with four older sisters, Pasco took, note of the lady's clothing. The
girls would love to know she wore a pair of green breeches with legs so wide
that, when she was afoot, she seemed to be wearing skirts. Over that she wore: a
long, sleeveless tunic in pale green cloth, fastened down the front with a row
of tiny buttons shaped like: suns. A full-sleeved blouse with green embroidery
kept her arms from the cold. A, sheer green silk veil was fixed somehow to light
brown braids wound, about the lady's head like a, crown. She: removed, one of
her tan, riding gloves and offered him. her bare hand.
Pasco took it and bowed, feeling a. little dazed.
"You dance very well," she said with approval. "What is your name, please?"
Pasco could not reply. Osa's grandmother said re spectfully, "He's Pasco Acalon,
my lady. A friend of my grandson's." She dipped a quick curtsy and nudged Pasco
with her elbow.
"WhaЧ?" he asked, startled, and realized he still had the lady's hand in his.
"IЧI'm sorry. I didn'tЧ," He dropped the small hand as if it had turned to fire.
"I thought I had seen nearly every kind of magic there is these last four
years," the lady remarked in a friendly voice, "but never magic that was danced.
Where did you learn it, Pasco?"'
Now he gaped at her, flustered. "Magic? Me, do magic?" Magic was a thing of
schools and books. No proper Acalon did magic. They were harriers. They had
always been harriers, or the spouses of harriers, or the parents of harriers.
"Oh, noЧplease, you're mistaken, my lady. I'm. no mage."
She met his eyes squarely. "You just danced a magical working, Pasco Acalon. I
am never mistaken about such things."
"Tell her," Pasco said pleadingly to Osas grand mother. "You know I never had
any sparkle of magic, not the tiniest."