• Пожаловаться

L. Camp: The Exotic Enchanter

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «L. Camp: The Exotic Enchanter» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. категория: Книги. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

L. Camp The Exotic Enchanter
  • Название:
    The Exotic Enchanter
  • Автор:
  • Жанр:
  • Рейтинг книги:
    4 / 5
  • Избранное:
    Добавить книгу в избранное
  • Ваша оценка:
    • 80
    • 1
    • 2
    • 3
    • 4
    • 5

The Exotic Enchanter: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «The Exotic Enchanter»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

L. Camp: другие книги автора


Кто написал The Exotic Enchanter? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

The Exotic Enchanter — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «The Exotic Enchanter», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Prince Igor entered the largest of these, He came back to the doorway just as the psychologists, beginning to pant from the hike and the climb, reached it. The prince offered a flat basket to Chalmers. It contained two small loaves on a coarse linen napkin, and some large gray nuggets on another.

“Bread and salt, Doc,” Shea muttered. “Can’t refuse.”

Dr. Chalmers looked annoyed, but bowed, took a loaf, dipped it in the salt, and chewed — carefully. To judge from his reaction it was dry but edible. Shea followed suit.

“Enter my house,” Igor said with a slight bow, moving back from the threshold. “Although perhaps you would care to visit the bathhouse first,” he added.

The psychologists accepted this evidence of civilization with exclamations of gratitude. A servant appeared in the doorway, and led them to one of the smaller buildings in the compound.

At the doorway he asked for their clothes, saying that clean ones would be provided. Stripped to the skin, the two entered.

Inside the steam was so thick they could scarcely see each other, and so hot that Shea’s sinuses, which had behaved well in other universes, gave him a painful reminder of their existence. An imprecation from Chalmers clued Shea to his partners whereabouts.

“The Russian bath has a long way to go,” the younger man agreed.

Groping about, they found benches, and wooden trays holding a greasy soap and bundles of reeds. These primitive substitutes for Ivory and washcloths actually got rid of blood and dirt.

They also got rid of aches and pains, and produced a wonderful feeling of lassitude. Shea found himself drowsing on a bench, unsure how long he’d been sitting there.

Eventually they heard the servant ask if they were to come out. When they answered yes, the other door of the bathhouse opened. They exited onto an open porch, where two large and well-aimed buckets of cold water were splashed over each of them.

Chalmers yelped, but the cold water had shocked a memory into Shea’s conscious mind.

“Doc,” Shea said, “I think I know where we are.”

Chalmers looked out inquiringly from the coarse linen towel with which he was drying himself, as Shea reached into the pile of trousers, shirts, coats, and low boots the servant had brought.

“Remember that cocktail party for the new faculty last fall?”

Chalmers nodded. A wealthy alumnus who had never outgrown an adolescent passion for Tolstoy had recently endowed a chair of Russian literature. The new incumbent was an emigre who said he had taught at the Imperial Academy of St. Petersburg. It might even have been true, and he was certainly the lion of the party.

Everyone was following the elephantine choreography prescribed for such occasions when Professor Zerensky’s path intersected that of Vaclav Polacek, the bad boy of the Garaden Institute. Polite introductions had degenerated into a katzenjammer conducted in Russian, and at one point Polacek started to take off his jacket. Shea elbowed him out of danger, and after threatening to allow him nothing but water until he cooled off, asked what the fuss was all about.

“That (Slavic epithet) had the gall to say that Borodin was a better composer than Smetanal” (More Slavic that Shea didn’t really want to have translated.)

Shea had learned, from occasional dealings with colleagues at Notre Dame, never to argue with nationalist fanatics. He suggested that the Rubber Czech solace himself by sticking to Pilsner and boycotting the vodka.

“I will!” Polacek said, and stuck to it.

“It’s too bad Polacek isn’t here,” Shea concluded. “This cold water would be just the thing for him.”

“I do not consider the theoretical virtues of the cold bath to be demonstrated in practice,” Chalmers replied. “As Florimel is not here, the impulse it is supposed to quench does not arise. If she were, there would be even less need for one.”

“Ah, right, Doc. But this Borodin character Professor Zerensky insulted Votsy with at that party — well, his last work was an opera called Prince Igor. He died before he finished it.”

“You mean we’re in an opera?” Chalmers cried, in the tone of someone who expects the overture to Tristan und Isolde to begin any second — and who can’t escape. “And its incomplete? Ah — are we expected to finish it?”

“I hope not,” Shea said, with a shudder. “Anyway, someone else did, after his death. But it was based on legends of early Russian heroes, so we’re probably in those.”

“how early?” Chalmers asked.

“I dunno. A long time before Peter the Great made the Russians shave their beards, anyway.”

“Peter the Great accomplished a great deal more than that, my boy. He founded the Russian navy, reorganized the military and civil administrations, and established the Imperial capital of St. Petersburg.”

“Well, it’s neither Imperial, the capital, nor St. Petersburg anymore.”

The footcloths provided with the boots were puzzling to men accustomed to socks.

“Uh, Doc,” Shea said, struggling with his, “about Florimel. Do you think she’s . . . here?” Their departure from the world of the Aeniad had been made in haste and disorder, thanks to a vengeful god.

Chalmers’ face was almost as stern as Igor’s — his version of the stiff upper lip. “If she isn’t . . .” was all he said.

Shea laced up his second boot, then rose and clapped Chalmers on the shoulder. “Let’s start looking. If nothing else, we can join up with one of those merchants Igor mentioned. Meanwhile, we’ve eaten his bread and salt, so let’s see what else he has to offer.

“Ready, Doc?’

“Quite, my boy,” Chalmers replied, steadily enough.

*  *  *

The servant led them back to the main building. Shea recognized the big, beehive-shaped stove in the corner; according to National Geographic, it was still used in the Russia of his own day. The benches and tables were of finely planed wood, and there was an icon on the east wall.

The building was well chinked and had only one window. Though warm, by Harold Shea’s standards it wanted a good airing.

Dinner was smoked venison, more of the coarse bread, and plenty of mead, kvass, and weak ale. The cups and bowls were finely finished wood, and steel knives were provided. Shea had tasted worse mead, but this was much too sweet for his taste so he only sipped.

While they were eating, the huntsmen trailed in, by way of the bathhouse. Each bowed to the icon and the prince before sitting down. Two joined the psychologists at Igor’s table; they were introduced as Oleg Nikolaivich and Mikhail Sergeivich.

Apparently it was considered bad manners to speak with one’s mouth full, but worse manners to have an empty cup. The room became loud with the sounds of cheerful drunkenness, the scurrying feet of servants and the stumbling ones of men seeking the privy.

Igor, and Mikhail, and Oleg after they sat down, watched the two visitors closely. As Shea and Chalmers did nothing more alarming than eat, the atmosphere at the table soon relaxed.

After the edge was off, Igor asked a number of shrewd questions about their origins. Shea left the answers to Chalmers, who said quite honestly that they were adventurers who had seen many a strange land.

“Indeed, Your Highness, we have seen the hippogriff, ridden a flying carpet, and drunk the wine of the gods! May I tell you about — ?”

“Another cup, and you will have battled sorcerers and tamed werewolves,” Igor interrupted. “Doubtless you also saw the firebird, and the Yaga in her hut, while you were in the forest. But tell me — by what road did you enter the lands of the Rus? Did you come from Galich, or by way of Polotsk?”

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «The Exotic Enchanter»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «The Exotic Enchanter» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Harry Turtledove (Editor): The Enchanter Completed
The Enchanter Completed
Harry Turtledove (Editor)
Лайон Спрэг Де Камп Array: The Incomplete Enchanter
The Incomplete Enchanter
Лайон Спрэг Де Камп Array
Vladimir Nabokov: The Enchanter
The Enchanter
Vladimir Nabokov
Elaine Wolf: Camp
Camp
Elaine Wolf
David Eddings: Enchanter's End Game
Enchanter's End Game
David Eddings
Отзывы о книге «The Exotic Enchanter»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «The Exotic Enchanter» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.