"Robert Weinberg - Logical Magician 02 - A Calculated Magician" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinberg Robert)

Self-discipline was a way of life to the Amazon. She always arrived early and left late. Practice,
practice, and more practice filled her life. Cassandra defined dedication---bordering on obsession.
Tall and slender, Cassandra had skin the color of dark chocolate. Her eyes and shoulder-length
hair were jet black. High cheekbones and a thin, aquiline nose gave her a fragile, delicate look. Only the
whipcord-lean muscles in her arms and shoulders hinted at the true strength she possessed.
In her hands, the Amazon held a thick walking staff. Capped on each end with silver, the stick
was covered with exotic markings carved into the wood. Simon had once mentioned in passing
something about ancient Greek mottoes. Jack felt sure they dealt with the glory of battle. A mythological
warrior woman, Cassandra didnтАЩt fight to live---she lived to fight.
Jack watched, entranced as she wove her staff in an intricate series of maneuvers. The wood
moved so fast mat at times the air whistled with its passage. Cassandra twirled on her toes, graceful as a
ballet dancer, as she completed routines designed to kill or maim anyone foolish enough to engage her in
combat. Cassandra played rough. When necessary, she was deadly.
тАЬAbout time you arrived, Jack,тАЭ declared the Amazon without turning. He was quite positive she
had never seen him. But she had known he was there. тАЬYouтАЩre three minutes late.тАЭ
тАЬSorry,тАЭ said Jack. тАЬHow did you identify me?тАЭ
тАЬYour breathing, of course,тАЭ she said. She spun around and planted her staff six inches into the
hard soil. тАЬOnce youтАЩve mastered the fundamentals of self-defense, IтАЩll teach you some basic survival
techniques. You make too much noise walking. And you breathe way too loud.тАЭ
Jack sighed. He didnтАЩt recall any of the fantasy novels he enjoyed dwelling on the heroтАЩs tedious
and painful training sessions. In books, the protagonist was always in perfect shape and a master fighter.
Unfortunately, teaching mathematics didnтАЩt require any such skills. It was going to be another traumatic
morning.
The Amazon smiled, as if reading his thoughts. Mentally, Jack grimaced. Cassandra reserved her
grins for days when she planned the most demanding physical torments imaginable. He wondered if it
was too late to remember another appointment.
Cassandra took one step toward him when her eyes widened in sudden surprise. Something
large and black rocketed over their heads. тАЬAssassins!тАЭ screeched the bird. тАЬAssassins!тАЭ
Instantly, the Amazon launched herself at Jack. Her right shoulder slammed into his chest,
sending the two of them sprawling to the earth. Above them, the clearing exploded with the roar of
automatic weapons.
Jack gulped in shock as CassandraтАЩs staff disintegrated into a thousand toothpicks. On the far
side of the glade, the greenery vanished, swept away by a steel broom.
тАЬStay flat,тАЭ commanded Cassandra and disappeared into the woods. Knowing his limitations,
Jack had no intentions of doing anything but.
An eternity passed in less than a minute. As suddenly as it had begun, the gunfire ceased. Still
wary, Jack stayed put. At the moment, the ground seemed the safest place to be.
With a flap of wings, a huge raven landed only a few inches from JackтАЩs nose. Intense pinpoint
black eyes stared into his.
тАЬAllтАЩs clear,тАЭ declared the bird, in a surprisingly deep voice. It spoke with a slight accent that
Jack found vaguely familiar. тАЬThe babe neutralized the opposition. I spotted three men and she got them
all. Tough cookie, that lady.тАЭ
тАЬHow do I know youтАЩre telling the truth?тАЭ asked Jack. тАЬYou could be trying to trick me.тАЭ
тАЬAfter warning you of the attack in the first place?тАЭ replied the raven. тАЬThat doesnтАЩt make sense,
Johnnie.тАЭ
Jack groaned. The nickname confirmed his worst fears. The bird squawked with a noticeable
Swedish accent. It sounded just like his mother. Who was the only person in the world who still used that
particular boyhood tide.
тАЬYouтАЩre Hugo?тАЭ guessed Jack, sitting up. He had never been very good at telling his motherтАЩs
two pet blackbirds apart. тАЬI never knew you could talk.тАЭ