"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 2 - With a Single Spell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

At least, Tobas thought, he hadn't been left homeless this time, as he
had been when his father died. And the house still held old Roggit's magical
supplies and paraphernalia, including, most importantly of all, his Book of
Spells.
Tobas would need that. It was all he had left to depend on.
When he had first convinced the old wizard to take him on as an
apprentice, despite the fact that anyone not half-blind and half-senile could
have seen he was at least fifteen, rather than the maximum apprenticeable age
of thirteen, Tobas had thought his place was secure. He had expected to live
out his life quietly, earning his bread as a small-town wizard, selling love
potions and removing curses, as Roggit had done. It had seemed easy enough. He
had been initiated into the primary mystery of the Wizards' Guild -- he
unconsciously touched the hilt of the dagger on his belt as he thought of it
-- and had learned his first spell without difficulty when, after months of
delay and apparently unnecessary preparation, Roggit had finally seen fit to
teach him one.
Tobas had thoroughly and beyond all question mastered his first spell and
practiced it until he could do it perfectly with no thought at all; when
Roggit had at last admitted that the lad had mastered it, he had promised to
teach Tobas a second within the month. The apprentice had been looking forward
eagerly to this next step in his education when, just two nights ago, the old
man had died quietly in his sleep, leaving Tobas with his house and his Book
of Spells and his jars and his boxes and his mysterious objects of every
description, but with only a single spell learned, and that nothing but the
knack of lighting fires.
The old man had called it Thrindle's Combustion, and Tobas had to admit
that it was very useful to be able to light a fire anywhere, at any time,
under any conditions, regardless of how wet the fuel was or how fiercely the
wind blew, so long as he had his athame, as Roggit had called the enchanted
dagger that was the key to a wizard's power, and a few grains of brimstone and
something that it was theoretically possible to burn. Since learning it Tobas
had made it a point never to be without the knife and a supply of brimstone
and had impressed people occasionally by setting fire to this or that. He had
used the spell to light Roggit's pyre, and that had added a nice touch to the
cremation ceremonies, an appropriate farewell; the villagers had murmured
approvingly.
Of course, not every use of the spell had gone so well, he remembered
wryly; he had once embarrassed himself by trying to ignite a black rock he had
mistaken for coal. The only result had been a shower of ineffectual sparks.
Fortunately, the girl he had been showing off for had not realized any more
was intended and had been appropriately amazed.
Useful as it might be, Thrindle's Combustion was not the sort of spell a
lad could build an entire career on. It would not earn his bread, nor convince
anyone to marry him, most of the village girls had been noticeably cool of
late, though he was not sure why. He had never expected to wed for love, of
course, hardly anyone did, but he doubted, under the circumstances, whether
any of the available females would even consider a marriage of convenience.
He needed to learn more spells, quickly, and establish himself as the
town's new wizard. If he failed to secure his position as soon as possible,
someone might well invite in a foreign magician of some sort, leaving him out