Аннотация
Harry Turtledove
Into The Darkness
Ealstan's master of herblore droned on and on about the mystical properties of plants. Ealstan paid him no more attention than he had to, no more attention than any other fifteen-year-old boy would have given of a warm summer afternoon. He was thinking about stripping off his tunic and jumping in the stream that flowed past Gromheort, about girls, about what his mother would fix for supper, about girls, about the health of the distant and ancient Duke of Bari, about girls… about everything under the sun, in short, except herblore.
He was a little too obviously not thinking about herblore. The master's voice came sharp as a whipcrack: "Ealstan!"
He started, then sprang to his feet, almost knocking over the stool on which he'd been perched. "Master Osgar!" he said, while the other boys whom Osgar taught snickered at his clumsiness - and in relief because the master had caught him instead of them.
Osgar's gray-streaked b...
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