"II 02 - The Gates of Thorbardin - Dan Parkinson 1.1a" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragonlance - Heroes (2))

wanted to do. Old Firestoke was not fond of him anyway
and was not happy about an empty-pursed orphan
spending time with his daughter. It had been Jilian's idea
to tell her father about Chanc's premonitions, in the hope
that Firestoke might outfit him for his quest. He didn't
need much. Just warm clothing, arms and provisions,
and a few of Firestoke's hirelings to accompany him.
"Thorbardin is in jeopardy," Chane had told him. "I
know it, and in dreams I've been told that I must find the
key to save it."
"Dreams!" Firestoke had rumbled, glaring at him.
'You're daft as a warren-bat."
"I know I'm right," Chane had insisted. "I don't know
exactly what I'm to find, but I'll know when I find it."
Firestoke had laughed at that, a cruel, victorious

laugh, "So you come to me for money? Well, you can
wait until your whiskers rust. You won't see a brass coin
from me, Chane Feldstone. Now get out of my house
...and stay away from my daughter! She'll have better
than the likes of you."
Then, it seemed that old Firestoke had changed his
mind. At the time, Chane believed that Jilian had per-
suaded him... and Jilian had believed it, too.
The cat sounds were closer now, momentarily hesitant
while the big beast tasted the air. Chanc clung to his
braced position and felt chill beads of sweat among his
whiskers.
She probably still believes it, he thought. How would
she know that her father's villains accompanied me to the
edge of the wilderness, then waylaid me?
They had beaten and pummeled him, enjoying the
sport. They had taken his weapons, his coins, his boots,
his warm clothing. Everything that Firestoke had pro-
vided, they took - and everything else he had, as well.
"Don't come back to Thorbardin," they'd told him.
"Our sponsor doesn't want to ever see you again."
And they had harried his trail, to make sure he didn't
turn back. Day after miserable, hungry day they had fol-
lowed him, until he had crossed beyond Thorbardin's
realm into the wild lands.
Hunger weakened him, and he felt his braced arms
trembling. The purring rumble of the great cat was very
near, just beyond the final bend in the chasm. He took a
deep breath. "Come on, you blasted cat," Chanc said
aloud. "Come kitty-kitty-kitty, you tarnish-pitted carni-
vore. Come on and get it over with!"
Then it was there, thirty feet away, a sleek, stalking
predator of midnight black. Gold eyes spotted him, and
it paused, ears flattening back atop an ebony head as