"Laura Resnick - Fluff the Tragic Dragon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Laura)

though, dragons are very people-oriented. We don't like to see _each other_
more than once every century or so."
"So, you've just been hanging out here by yourself until this
afternoon, when Mrs. Pearl finally found you," I concluded.
"Is she the fat lady with blue hair? I was so upset. The first person
I've had a chance to talk to in over twenty years, and she screams and runs
away. Then half a dozen others did the same."
"They didn't mean anything by it," I said hastily, hearing the hurt
creep back into his voice. "It's just that nobody expected to find a dragon in
the basement, not even in this neighborhood."
"I'm glad _you _decided to talk to me," he said warmly.
"Well... It's my pleasure."
"You'll come back again and talk to me now and then?"
"Sure. Of course I will." What else would I say? The poor thing was so
lonesome, so grateful for a little companionship. And Fluff was really pretty
pleasant company, to be honest. More so than Lloyd had ever been. "Of course,
I have to admit I'm not much of a chess player -- "
"Oh, that's okay. I have lots of other games," he assured me, trundling
over to the other end of his cavern. "Checkers, Monopoly, Trivial Pursuits,
Pictionary, Life..." His voice trailed off and he obligingly blew out a stream
of fire so I could see his hoard -- an enormous pile of games, old sports
equipment, clothing, vases, pottery, books, magazines, handicrafts, and more
kinds of jumbled junk than the Eleventh Avenue Thrift Shop had, even right
after Christmas.
"My God, what is all this?" I breathed, astonished that this had been
down here without our knowledge.
"My treasure," he said proudly. "Dragons are the guardians of
splendor."
Although some of the stuff was clearly very old, I noticed a few items
he must have collected just recently. "Hey, this is mine!" I grabbed the
T-shirt that I thought the washing machine had eaten and waved it in his scaly
face. "How did you get this?"
"I can't tell you that. Trade secret." He sounded a little smug.
"And all this other stuff," I murmured. "You really have sticky claws."
"I told you, I collect things. That's my job. Dragons are hoarders. But
the treasure's been getting very big, since I've been living all by myself for
so long with no one to share it with." He gave me a toothy grin, and I fell
back a step despite myself. "But now it's all yours."
"Mine? Why?"
"Because I choose to give it to you. We collect treasures, and then we
give them away to mortals who do us a favor or make us happy. Or sometimes
even to mortals who need something and just ask politely." He blew out some
smoke in a derisive snort. "But no one seems to understand the custom
anymore."
Not wanting to offend him, I said carefully, "Thanks, Fluff, but it's
such a lot of stuff, and my apartment is so small."
"Oh, I'll keep guarding it for you," he offered eagerly. "That's often
part of the bargain."
"Then I'll just keep this T-shirt, and you can guard the rest. Oh, and
do you happen to have a quarter, by any chance?" It would be a lot easier to