"Cook, Glen - Dread Empire 04 - Octobers Baby" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cook Glen)

They were at Mocker's door. When Ragnarson said the latter, Nepanthe gave him a hard stare. "You're not mixed up with him again, are you? Mocker..."

"Doe's Breast. Diamond Eyes. Light of life of noted sluggard renown for pusillanimity, would same, being contender for title World's Laziest Man, being famous from south beyond edge of farthest map to north in Trolledyngja, from west in Freyland east to Matayanga, for permanent state of cowardice and lassitude..."

"Yes, you would. How'd you get known in all those places?"

Mocker continued, in Necremnen, "Was famous Star Rider."

"Why?" Ragnarson asked.

"Why what?"

"Oh, never mind. That's why you weren't surprised to see me?"

The fat man shrugged. "When Star Riders come calling on fat old fool sequestered in boundless forest, am surprised by nothings. Next, Haroun will appear out of south with new world-conquering scheme in hand, madder than ever." This he said sourly, as if he believed it a distinct possibility.

"If you two can quit chicken-clucking for a minute, we can eat," said Nepanthe.

"Sorry, Nepanthe," Ragnarson apologized. "Some things..."

She sighed. "As long as it's not another woman." "No, not that. Just a minor mystery."

v) Another strange visitor

The mystery soon deepened. Ethrian returned from the stables and, after having been scolded for being as slow as small boys will, said, "There's a man coming. A funny man on a little horse. I don't think I like him." Having so declaimed, he set about devouring his dinner.

Mocker rose, went to a front window, came back wearing a puzzled frown. "Marco."

It took Ragnarson a moment to recall anyone by that name. "Visigodred's apprentice?" Visigodred was a wizard, an old acquaintance.

"Same." Mocker looked worried. Ragnarson was disturbed himself.

A clatter and rattle at the front door. "He's here."

"Uhn." Both men looked at Nepanthe. For a moment she stared back, a little pale, then went.

"About goddamn time," came from the other room, then, "Oh, beg your pardon, my dear lovely lady. Husband home? I hope not. Seems a shame to let a beautiful chance meeting go to waste."

"Back here."

Marco, a dwarf with the ego of a giant, came strutting into the kitchen, not a bit abashed about having been overheard. "Timing was right, I see." He pulled up a chair, snagged a huge hunk of bread, smeared it with butter. He ignored inquiring looks till he had gorged himself. "Suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here. Besides stuffing my face. So am I. Well same as always, doing the old man's legwork. Got a message for you."

"Humph!" Mocker snorted. "No time. Am occupied with profound compunctionsЧcomputations? Constructions?Чphilosophic. How to get lentils in earth without straining back of and mud-bespattering self of, portly peasant, self. Am no wise interested in problems and peculations of old busybody who would interfere with ponderations on same." He looked at Nepanthe as if for approval.

Ragnarson was irritated. Did Nepanthe control Mocker that much? Once he had been a wild-eyed heller, game for any insane scheme Haroun concocted. Bragi met Nepanthe's eyes across the table. Why the laughter there? He thought, she knows what I'm thinking.

"What the boss wanted me to tell you was this: 'In a land of many kings trust no hand but your own, nor allow you the right far from sight of the left. Men there change loyalties more often than underwear. Stand wary of all women, and tamper not with the place, and name, and cloak, of Mist.' What the hell that means I don't know. He's not usually that hard to pin down. But he's got a stake in it somehow. I guess his girlfriend is in. Well, got to go. Thank you for a delightful meal, my lady."

"Hold on," Ragnarson growled. "What the hell, hey? What's going on?"