"Dragonlance - Deathgate Cycle 02 - Elven Star" - читать интересную книгу автора (Deathgate Cycle)

'given Star O5"

that very much- Have I got the tune?" Blackbeard hummed the Х otelody in a deep bass.

"Yes, sir! Exactly!" cried Roland, much amused. "Would you Bice me to teach you the words?"

- "I have them. Up here." Blackbeard tapped his forehead. "I am a quick student."

"I guess so!" said Roland, winking at the woman.

Rega grinned back.

"I would like to hear it again, but I must be going," said Blackbeard with true regret, shoving himself up from the table. "I must tell my people the good news." Sobering for a moment, he added, "They will be greatly relieved." Putting his hands on a belt around his waist, the dwarf unbuckled it and flung it on the table. "There is half the money, as we agreed. The Other half on delivery."

Roland's hand closed swiftly over the belt and pushed it across to Rega. She opened it, glanced inside, made a swift eye count, and nodded.

"Fine, my friend," said Roland, not bothering to stand up. "We'll meet you at the agreed-on place in late Fallow."

Afraid that the dwarf might be offended, Rega rose to her feet and extended her hand-palm open to show there was no Weapon-in the age-old human gesture of friendship. The dwarves have no such custom; there had never been a time when dwarves fought each other. Blackbeard had been around humans long enough to know that this pressing together of palms was significant. He did what was expected of him and hurriedly left the tavern, wiping his hand on his leather jerkin and humming the tune to the "Lay of Thillia" as he walked.

"Not bad for a night's work," said Roland, buckling the money belt around his waist, cinching it in, for his waist was torn and the dwarf was robust.

"No thanks to you!" Rega muttered. The woman drew the raztar3

'Originally a child's toy known as a bandalore, the raztar was made into a weapon by the elves. A round case that fits snugly in the palm holds seven wooden blades attached to a magical spindle. A coiled length of cutvine, wrapped around the spindle, is looped around the middle finger. A quick Scfc of the wrist sends the spindle lashing out, blades magically extended. Another flick pulls the weapon, blades shut, back into the hand. Those skilled in the art can send the weapon out as far as ten feet, the flashing b&des ripping through flesh before the opponent knows what's hit him.

*36"

WEIS AND HICKMAN

from its round scabbard she wore on her thigh and made a show of sharpening all seven blades, glancing meaningfully at those in the inn who were taking just a bit too much interest in their affairs. "I pulled your fat out of the fire. Blackbeard would've walked out, if it hadn't been for me."

"Ah, 1 could've cut his beard off and he wouldn't have dared take offense. He can't afford to."

"You know," added Rega in an unusually somber and reflective mood, "he was really, truly frightened."

"So he was frightened? All the better for business. Sis," said Roland briskly.

Rega glanced around sharply, then leaned forward. "Don't call me 'Sis'! Soon we'll be traveling with that elf, and one little slip like that will ruin everything!"

"Sorry, 'Wifey, dear.' " Roland finished off the kegrot, and shook his head regretfully when the barmaid glanced his way. Carrying this much money, he needed to remain relatively alert. "So the dwarves are planning an attack on some human settlement. Probably the SeaKings. I wonder if we couldn't sell our next shipment to them."

"You don't think the dwarves will attack Thillia?"

"Now who's getting a conscience? What's it matter to us? If the dwarves don't attack Thillia, the SeaKings will. And if the SeaKings don't attack Thillia, Thillia will attack itself. Whatever happens, as I said, it's good for business."

Depositing a couple of wooden lord's crowns on the table, the two left the tavern. Roland walked in front, his hand on the hilt of his bladewood sword. Rega followed a pace or two behind him to guard his back as was their custom. They were a formidable-looking pair and had lived long enough in Griffith to establish the reputation of being tough, quick, and not much given to mercy. Several people eyed them, but no one troubled them. The two and their money arrived safely at the shack they called home.

Rega pulled shut the heavy wooden door and bolted it carefully from the inside. Peering outdoors, she drew dosed the rags that she'd hung over the windows and gave Roland a nod. He lifted a three-legged wooden table and set it against the door. Kicking aside a rag rug lying on the floor, he revealed a trapdoor in the floor and, beneath it, a hole that had been dug in the