"Christopher Stasheff - Rogue Wizard 07 - A Wizard In Midgard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

genetic drift. After all, it makes sense that if a few giants were born, they'd
want to marry other giants."
"And dwarves would wish to marry other dwarves," Herkimer agreed. "But why would
they seek out separate territories?"
"That, I leave to normal human cussedness," Magnus said. Now, Gar reflected that
he had guessed more rightly than he knew, in using the word "cussedness." Maybe
"perversity" would be more fitting-but either way, if he really wanted to bring
peace to this world, he needed a local ally, and Gar thought he might be able to
forge an alliance with the woman he'd rescued-if he could win her confidence
enough to talk with her. She would be a valuable information source and a
possible peacemaker-but even if she weren't, she was a person who needed help.
He didn't usually make a practice of adopting waifs and strays, but he had a
notion this one needed a friend more than most.
Besides, he needed a friend, too-preferably one whose brain wasn't made of
silicon.
From her tracks, their direction, and the rate at which she'd been going plus
the panic that had impelled her, Gar estimated where she would have gone to
ground. He strolled along the road for another fifteen minutes, then stopped and
looked around as though judging the place's fitness for a campsite.
In reality, of course, he was listening with his mind.


5
There. He could hear her thoughts, quite loudly and clearly-but only surface
thoughts. Monster's looking for me hurt me have to freeze so he won't see me be
ready to run if he does. Then a sudden undercurrent of doubt: Why'd he help me?
But suspicion overwhelmed it in an instant: Wants me for himself.
She was watching from somewhere, absolutely still and watching him, trying not
to breathe, ready to run at the slightest hint of pursuit-but under her tension,
Magnus could feel an utter bone-weariness and a massive dejection, an impulse to
just sit down and die.
He couldn't let that happen, of course, and was absolutely determined not to
give it a chance. He started walking again, went on another hundred feet, then
stepped off the road. He could feel the sharpness of her burst of panic, but
also the caution that went with it and held her frozen in place, terrified at
the thought of making a sound or a movement that might attract his attention.
Deliberately not looking in her direction, Magnus stopped in the center of a
small clearing and surveyed it. Fifty feet of leaves and underbrush hid him from
the road, but the open space was wide enough to light a fire safely. He nodded
and started searching for rocks, picking up one in each hand and carrying them
to the center of the clearing to build a fire ring.
When the ring was made and the plants and dead leaves cleared from it, he found
the driest sticks he could and kindled a fire. All the while he was aware of the
woman's thoughts, wary and watchful, wondering what he was doing, testing his
every movement for menace, trying to puzzle out whatever trap he was laying for
her. She hadn't yet thought of the trap called friendship, which could hold her
more surely than any snare.
Magnus made a frame of green branches, notched one to make a pothook, took the
little kettle out of his pack, filled it with water from his skin canteen, and
hung it over the fire. Then he took out two tin mugs with wooden handles,