Книга только для ознакомления
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"How did you do that?" The dragon voice in his ears
seemed genuinely impressed.
"I bounced off the ground effect," the gnome ex-
plained. "It's nothing especially new. I've been bouncing
off it for weeks."
"Ground effect?" The voice seemed fainter now.
"That's what I call it. The air near the ground is denser
than the air higher up. It's why I can't land."
"You can't land? You mean you can't get down?"
"No, blast it! I can get near the ground, but I can't
quite reach it. Uh... are you coming after me again? I'd
rather you didn't. I have enough troubles without you."
The diminishing voice in Bobbin's ear seemed to
chuckle. "I've heard of gnomes being standoffish, but
you're the first one I've found who was actually stuck up!
But I have no more time for you, so I suppose this is your
lucky day. Goodbye, Bobbin." Again there was a fading
chuckle, then the voice was gone.
The gnome had managed to level out his climb, and
he looked over the wicker rail. In the distance below,
the red dragon was winging for the mountains east of
Waykeep. Bobbin circled and watched until the mythi-
cal beast cleared the peaks there and descended into the
smoky mists beyond. Then he sighed and tugged on his
descent strings. He was cold and hungry, and ready to
go down. Apparently the soarwagon was, too. At the
slightest pressure on its vanes, it dropped its nose and
plummeted straight down, its wings rippling and whin-
ing
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