"David Eddings. Pawn of prophecy queen of sorcery magician's gambit (The Belgariad, Part one)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"Nine-next Erastide."
"And in nine years you've learned everything that's both possible and
impossible? You're a remarkable boy, Garion."
Garion flushed. "Well," he said, somehow not quite so sure of himself,
"the oldest man I ever heard of is old Weldrik over on Mildrin's farm.
Durnik says he's over ninety and that he's the oldest man in the district."
"And it's a very big district, of course," the old man said solemnly.
"How old are you?" Garion asked, not wanting to give up.
"Old enough, boy," the old man said.
"It's still only a story," Garion insisted.
"Many good and solid men would say so," the old man told him, looking
up at the stars, "good men who will live out their lives believing only in
what they can see and touch. But there's a world beyond what we can see
and touch, and that world lives by its own laws. What may be impossible in
this very ordinary world is very possible there, and sometimes the
boundaries between the two worlds disappear, and then who can say what is
possible and impossible?"
"I think I'd rather live in the ordinary world," Garion said. "The
other one sounds too complicated."
"We don't always have that choice, Garion," the storyteller told him.
"Don't be too surprised if that other world someday chooses you to do
something that must be done - some great and noble thing."
"Me?" Garion said incredulously.
"Stranger things have happened. Go to bed, boy. I think I'll look at
the stars for a while. The stars and I are very old friends."
"The stars?" Garion asked, looking up involuntarily. "You're a very
strange old man - if you don't mind my saying so."
"Indeed," the storyteller agreed. "Quite the strangest you'll likely
meet."
"I like you all the same," Garion said quickly, not wanting to give
offense.
"That's a comfort, boy," the old man said. "Now go to bed. Your Aunt
Pol will be worried about you."
Later, as he slept, Garion's dreams were troubled. The dark figure of
maimed Torak loomed in the shadows, and monstrous things pursued him
across twisted landscapes where the possible and the impossible merged and
joined as that other world reached out to claim him.

Chapter Three
SOME FEW MORNINGS later, when Aunt Pol had begun to scowl at his
continued lurking in her kitchen, the old man made excuse of some errand
to the nearby village of Upper Gralt.
"Good," Aunt Pol said, somewhat ungraciously. "At least my pantries
will be safe while you're gone."
He bowed mockingly, his eyes twinkling. "Do you need anything, Mistress
Pol?" he asked. "Some trifling thing I might purchase for you - as long as
I'm going anyway?"
Aunt Pol thought a moment. "Some of my spice pots are a bit low," she
said, "and there's a Tolnedran spice merchant in Fennel Lane just south of
the Town Tavern. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding the tavern."