"02 - Tales From the Vulgar Unicorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asprin Robert)

addition to exaggerating one's own status, it is commonplace to downgrade or
ignore one's closest competitors. As a result, the pecking order of Sanctuary
will vary depending on who you talk to ... or more importantly, who you believe.



INTRODUCTION

Moving his head with minute care to avoid notice, Hakiem the Storyteller studied
the room over the untouched rim of his wine cup. This was, of course, done
through slitted eyes. It would not do to have anyone suspect he was not truly
asleep. What he saw only confirmed his growing feelings of disgust.

The Vulgar Unicorn was definitely going downhill. A drunk was snoring on the
floor against the wall, passed out in a puddle of his own vomit, while several
beggars made their way from table to table, interrupting the undertoned
negotiations and hagglings of the tavern's normal clientele.

Though his features never moved, Hakiem grimaced inside. Such goings on were
never tolerated when One-Thumb was around. The bartender/owner of the Vulgar
Unicorn had always been quick to evict such riffraff as fast as they appeared.
While the tavern had always been shunned by the more law-abiding citizens of
Sanctuary, one of the main reasons it was favoured by the rougher element was
that here a man could partake of a drink or perhaps a little larcenous
conversation uninterrupted. This tradition was rapidly coming to an end.

The fact that he would not be allowed to linger for hours over a cup of the
tavern's cheapest wine if One-Thumb were here never entered Hakiem's mind. He
had a skill. He was a storyteller, a tale-spinner, a weaver of dreams and
nightmares. As such, he considered himself on a measurably better plane than the
derelicts who had taken to frequenting the place.

One-Thumb had been missing for a long time now, longer than any of his previous
mysterious disappearances. Fear of his return kept the tavern open and the
employees honest, but the place was degenerating in his absence. The only way it
could sink any lower would be if a Hell Hound took to drinking here.

Despite his guise of slumber, Hakiem found himself smiling at that thought. A
Hell Hound in the Vulgar Unicorn! Unlikely at best. Sanctuary still chafed at
the occupying force from the Rankan Empire, and the five Hell Hounds were hated
second only to the military governor. Prince Kadakithis, whom they guarded.
Though it was a close choice between Prince Kitty-Cat with his naive lawmaking
and the elite soldiers who enforced his words, the citizens of Sanctuary
generally felt the military governor's quest to clean up the worse hellhole in
the Empire was stupid, while the Hell Hounds were simply devilishly efficient.
In a town where one was forced to live by wit as often as skill, efficiency
could be grudgingly admired, while stupidity, particularly stupidity with power,
could only be despised.

No, the Hell Hounds weren't stupid. Tough, excellent swordsmen and seasoned