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

unwashed bodies. "Ever since that lazy, ungrateful little slut ran off, I haven't had a moment's rest. Who's
supposed to scrub my floor and clean my fireplace? And do the mending? And wash the dishes? AndтАФ"
"How dreadful for you," Ramdane interrupted. "Can you tell us how she disappeared?"
The woman snorted. "I sent her into the woods to look for flax."
"Where in the woods?" Dagmar asked intently.
"North of here. Told her not to come back until she had enough to start my new dress." She turned
and shouted a threat into the screaming morass. "Brats."
"Horrible," Dagmar said.
The woman bristled. "My children?"
"Your dress."
"Oh." The woman looked confused, and Dagmar wondered if she were related to the greasy
talismonger. "Anyway, that was the last I saw of her. A week after she disappeared, that idiot Dillon
Hunter rushes into town blithering about seeing her statue in the woods. Serve her right if she got turned
to stone."
"Can't think of a better punishment," Dagmar said.
The woman looked at Dagmar sharply, but Dagmar kept her face blank.
"Well," she growled, "if you find her, tell her not to expect any back pay." With that, she marched
into the house and slammed the door.
Ramdane gave Dagmar a long look. "So you still want kids one day?"
***
Two hours later, brother and sister were resting beneath a huge maple tree. Occasional red leaves
drifted down around them like tattered feathers.
"I hate this," Ramdane muttered. He was holding a small stone in his hands. "We must've talked to
the entire village and haven't found anyone to guide us north. Not even Dillon. They're all too scared.
Chickens."
"Too bad you weren't chicken about giving Crystamel a new body," Dagmar said, and instantly
regretted it when she saw the look on Ramdane's face. She sighed and gestured at Ramdane's rock.
"That talisman will reverse what the gorgon's done?"
"In theory. I've never dealt with anything like this before, though." Ramdane's fingers gleamed, and
the stone in his hand went soft as clay as he carved one final rune with the nail. When it was finished, he
threaded it onto a leather thong and hung it from his belt.
"How's Crystamel? You can still feel her, can't you?"
"She's scared," Ramdane replied shortly. "What's our next step?"
Dagmar got to her feet with a clinking of mail. "I think we should wander around the woods for a
while. North of here."
"Dagmar," Ramdane blurted, "how are we going to get the gorgon's head?"
"With a shiny shield and a pure heart."
Ramdane grimaced. "I don't trust that greasy guy."
"You think I do?"
"If she dies, I die, so what's to prevent him from sending us off on another monster hunt after this
one?" Ramdane hooked the finished talisman onto his belt. "Threats and blackmail for the rest of my life.
Gods, Dagmar, there's a twenty-ton rock hanging over me on a thread."
The little girl inside Dagmar jumped up and down. Told you so! Told you so! Dagmar told her to
shut up.
"Let's take it one step at a time," she advised. "And our first step should be toward the woods.
There must be a trail the girl was following. Let's find it."
There was a trail, actually. It even led north. Brother and sister followed it under crisp, colorful
leaves and over browning grass. Twice they lost their way and had to scour the forest floor to pick up the
trail again. The air was crisp and fresh as a new-picked apple, and Dagmar's internal little girl was filled
with a desire to roll in leaf piles and stuff dead twigs down Ramdane's shirt like she had done when they