"Charles de Lint - The Riddle of the Wren" - читать интересную книгу автора (De Lint Charles)

centuries of unplanned and disordered growth. Situated in the lower
northwest corner of the Penwolds, it straddled the Keeping River in a
pleasing sprawl of stone and timber-framed buildings all clustered around
Fernwillow House, the original manor from which the town took its name.
Its streets were narrow, twisting haphazardly from the outlying farms to
empty into the town squares on either side of the Keeping. A stone bridge
connected the twoтАФMarketsquare south of the river, Craftsquare on the
north.
Weekdays and Saturdays, both squares bustled with activity. In
Craftsquare, every manner of craft was represented. Tinker stalls stood
elbow to elbow with pottery and weaving booths; there were portrait
painters, dressmakers, candlemakers, leather workers, metal workers, ink
and paper sellers, furriers, timekeepers and instrument makers. Every sort
of manufactured goods was on display, from bolts of cloth to carved
wooden "catch-the-mouse" games.
In Marketsquare, the butchers cut lamb, beef and pork to the direction
of their customers. Geese, ducks and chickens raised a cacophony from
their wicker cages. Farm wives and their daughters boasted the quality of
their vegetables, each raising her voice to be heard above the cries of her
competitors. There were baked goods, tobacco, herbs for stewing and
salads and sauces, cob nuts and almonds, apples, quinces and grapes,
hops, scouring materials, tallow and flax.
Fernwillow was the trade center of the Penwolds, situated as it was
south of the hills that grew progressively more rugged as they marched
into the Hinterlands, yet lying just north of the patchwork farmland and
forest that swept in ever more cultivated leagues south to the Lakelands.
Low barges travelled from the north and south along the Keeping so that
their drovers and badgers might sell goods in Fernwillow and buy others
to dispatch elsewhere. From the east and west, traders came in wagons
from as far way as Bentyn on the coast and Cranstock in the Midlands,
travelling the King's Road.
Sitting on a low stone wall on the Craftsquare side of the river, Minda
Sealy watched one such wagon creak its way up Elding Street, the
horseshoes of the big Kimblyn draught horse clopping on the
cobblestones, the wagoner crying, "Make way! Make way!" to a crowd
which was slow to take heed of his cries, and slower still to obey. Minda
was a small, slender girl of seventeen, with shoulder-length brown hair
framing an oval face, and dark otter-brown eyes. There was a wicker
basket by her foot, topped full of cabbages, carrots and leeks. She wore an
oak-green dress with flounced sleeves, a cream-colored smock overtop,
and leather shoes that were more like slippers than the sturdy footgear a
countrywoman might wear. She tapped the heels of her shoes against the
wall, letting her gaze drift and her attention wander. Though the sun was
warm, she shivered. Her eyes had a hollow look about them, with dark
circles underneath.
"Silly Sealy!"
Minda turned with a frown. The nickname had followed her all through
school. But the girl who joined her on the wall wore a gentle, teasing smile
and meant no harm by it.
"Hello, Janey," Minda said.