"Steven Piziks - Smoke and Mirrors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Piziks Steven)

hurt, I just might drop this mirror, and wouldn't that be a shame?"
Dagmar shot Ramdane a glance. He was on his hands and knees, retching.
"What do you want?" she asked, not lowering the knife.
The man smiled, revealing perfect, white teeth that contrasted sharply with the rest of his
appearance. "You killed my employer."
"Prepare to die?" Dagmar asked.
The man looked confused. "I'm the one holding the magic mirror. You prepare to die."
"I didn'tтАФnever mind," Dagmar said. "Look, a lot of people were mad at your employer. It was
probably the altar and all those children. And the sharp, shiny knives."
"He paid his retainers on time," the man snapped.
"They do say no one can be all bad."
"Don't get smart. You're not in charge here."
Dagmar's heart was pounding, but she nevertheless kept the knife steady. "So you're going to break
that mirror, release that familiar spirit without a proper body nearby, and kill my little brother, is that it?"
"Maybe. Or maybe you could do me a little . . . favor."
Despite her tension, Dagmar had to suppress an urge to roll her eyes. "And what favor would that
be?"
Ramdane continued to retch. Dagmar was sure he must be empty down to his toes by now.
"There's a little town called Daralis north of here," the greasy man said, "and they have a little
problem. A gorgon."
"Ugly woman? Snakes for hair? Turns people who look at her to stone?"
"You're smart for a sword-swinger. At least one person has already disappeared, and a huntsman
saw a statue in the woods. Gorgon." The man held up the mirror. "I'll trade this bit of glass for its head.
The talismans I could make from the hair snakes alone will set me up for life."
"How," Dagmar asked levelly, "are we supposed to cut the head off something we can't even look
at?"
"I recommend shield polish," the greasy man said. "Just come back to this charming little grove with
the head. I'll find you." And with that, he backed into the bushes and disappeared.
Dagmar flung the knife down and hauled Ramdane to his feet. "Dammit! Dammit dammit dammit!"
"Thanks for the sympathy," Ramdane said, staggering. "We're just talking about a piece of my soul,
here."
Overhead, a bluebird twittered cheerfully. Dagmar would have cheerfully strangled it. Instead, she
picked up Ramdane's hammer and started pounding the tent stake again. She swore in time with the
rhythm.
"What are you doing?" Ramdane asked incredulously.
"Setting up camp. Are you up to hauling water? I need to wash like you wouldn't believe."
"What I don't believe is that we aren't packing up and heading out."
Dagmar sat back on her haunches. The cool breeze blew up stronger for a moment, making the
canvas ripple. "You go on ahead. Me, I don't much care for stumbling through brambles after dark and
turning my foot in gopher holes I can't see. Daralis isn't going anywhere."
"But my soul is!"
A little girl inside Dagmar jumped up and down and chanted Told you so! Told you so! But
Ramdane's face was haggard, and his whipcord build looked even leaner than usual. Tiny lines of fear
had already etched themselves around his blue eyes. Dagmar bit the inside of her cheek. There are times
when even older sisters aren't allowed to say certain things aloud.
 "Water," was all she said, and went back to pounding the stake.
***
"We're looking into the disappearances," Dagmar said, "and the innkeeper told us you couldтАФ"
"Well, it's about time," the woman snapped. A baby squalled in the house behind her. The sound
mixed with shouts and screams from voices of varying ages, and Dagmar caught a heavy whiff of