"Well, then—"
"Nathaniel—one last thing."
"What?"
"Listen: for a magician, you've got potential. And I don't mean the way you think I mean. For a start, you've got far more initiative than most of them, but they'll crush it out of you if you're not careful. And you've a conscience too, another thing which is rare and easily lost. Guard it. That's all.
Oh, and I'd beware of your new master, if I were you."
He looked at me for a moment, as if he wanted to speak. Then he shook his head impatiently.
"I'll be all right. You needn't bother about me. This is your last chance. I have to be down for dinner in five minutes."
"I'm ready."
Then the boy spoke the counter-summons swiftly and without fault. I felt the weight of words binding me to the earth lessen with every syllable. As he neared the end, my form extended, spread, blossomed out from the confines of the circle. Multiple doors opened in the planes, beckoning me through. I became a dense cloud of smoke that roared up and outward, filling a room that became less real to me with every passing instant.
He finished. His mouth snapped shut. The final bond broke like a severed chain.
So I departed, leaving behind a pungent smell of brimstone. Just something to remember me by.
Copyright © 2003 by Jonathan Stroud
ISBN: 0-7868-1859-X
Дата добавления: 2015-11-04; просмотров: 17 | Нарушение авторских прав
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