"Dragonlance - Preludes 2 Vol 2 - Flint The King" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragonlance)

marily underground. They hated light and suffered from
nausea when in the sun, though they were known to venture
from their subterranean homes at night. While normal
dwarves looked much like humans, only differently propor-
tioned, derro dwarves tended toward the grotesque. Their
hair was pale tan or yellow, their skin very white with a blu-
ish undertone, and their large eyes were almost entirely
pupil.
And they were reputedly so evil and malicious that they
made hobgoblins seem like good neighbors.
Flint thought about dashing behind an outcropping, but it
was already too late to hide: he had been spotted along the
roadside. He was more than curious, anyway, remembering
Hanak's sighting of derro mountain dwarves in Hillhome.
The driver's hideous eyes bore into Flint's from about fifty
feet away, and the derro stopped the wagon at the crest of
the pass with a violent tug on the reins.
"What are you doing here at this time of night, hill
dwarf?" The driver's voice was raspy, and though he spoke
Common, the words came to him slowly, as if the language
were not totally familiar. The derro on the sides of the
wagon dropped to the ground, and one circled around the
horses to stand protectively below the driver still on the
buckboard. Each held a shiny steel-bladed battle-axe casu-
ally in his hands.
"Since when do derro claim rights over Hillhome's pass?"
Flint was not the least bit frightened. He watched the armed
guards, whose eyes were focused on the axe hanging from
Flint's belt. The two derro wore dark metal breastplates and
heavy leather gauntlets. They carried themselves with the
cocksure attitude of veteran warriors. The driver, who was

unarmed and unarmored, held the reins and watched.
"You hill dwarves know the agreement," the driver
growled deep in his throat. "Now get back to the village be-
fore we are forced to report you as a spy... or worse," he
added. The guards took a step toward Flint, gripping their
weapons with purpose.
"Spy!" sputtered Flint, almost amused, and yet his hand
moved to his axe. "Great Reorx, why would I be doing that?
Speak up, dwarf!"
The horses pranced impatiently on the Passroad, snorting
misty breath into the chilly night air. The driver stilled them
with a jerk on the reins, then clenched his fists at Flint. "I'm
warning you - get out of the way and go back to the vil-
lage," the driver hissed.
Flint knew he would get no answers from these derro. He
forced his voice to remain level. "You've already caused me
to burn my bacon with your nonsensical questions, so pass
if you must and I'll return to my charred dinner."