"Margaret Weis - Dragonlance Chronicles 01 - Dragons Of Autumn Twilight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragonlance)

into the cold, dividing gray to the ears
of new gods.
The sky is calm, silent, unmoving.
We have yet to hear their answer.


The Old Man
Tika Waylan straightened her back with a sigh. flexing her shoulders to ease her
cramped muscles. She tossed the soapy bar rag into the water pail and glanced
around the empty room.
It was getting harder to keep up the old inn. There was a lot of love rubbed
into the warm finish of the wood, but even love and tallow couldn't hide the
cracks and splits in the well-used tables or prevent a customer from sitting on
an occasional splinter. The Inn of the Last Home was not fancy, not like some
she'd heard about in Haven. It was comfortable. The living tree in which it was
built wrapped its ancient arms around it lovingly, while the walls and fixtures
were crafted around the boughs of the tree with such care as to make it
impossible to tell where nature's work left off and man's began. The bar seemed
to ebb and flow like a polished wave around the living wood that supported it.
The stained glass in the window panes cast welcoming flashes of vibrant color
across the room.
Shadows were dwindling as noon approached. The Inn of the Last Home would soon
be open for business. Tika looked around and smiled in satisfaction. The tables
were clean and polished. All she had left to do was sweep the floor. She began
to shove aside the heavy wooden benches, as Otik emerged from the kitchen,
enveloped in fragrant steam.
"Should be another brisk day-for both the weather and business," he said,
squeezing his stout body behind the bar. He began to set out mugs, whistling
cheerfully.
"I'd like the business cooler and the weather warmer," said Tika, tugging at a
bench. "I walked my feet off yesterday and got little thanks and less tips! Such
a gloomy crowd! Everybody nervous, jumping at every sound. I dropped a mug last
night and-I swear-Retark drew his sword!"
"Pah!" Otik snorted. "Retark's a Solace Seeker Guard. They're always nervous.
You would be too if you had to work for Hederick, that fanat-"
"Watch it," Tika warned.
Otik shrugged. "Unless the High Theocrat can fly now, he won't be listening to
us. I'd hear his boots on the stairs before he could hear me." But Tika noticed
he lowered his voice as he continued. "The residents of Solace won't put up with
much more, mark my words. People disappearing, being dragged off to who knows
where. It's a sad time." He shook his head. Then he brightened. "But it's good
for business."
"Until he closes us down," Tika said gloomily. She grabbed the broom and began
sweeping briskly.
"Even theocrats need to fill their bellies and wash the fire and brimstone from
their throats." Otik chuckled. "It must be thirsty work, haranguing people about
the New Gods day in and day out-he's in here every night."
Tika stopped her sweeping and leaned against the bar.
"Otik," she said seriously, her voice subdued. "There's other talk, too-talk of
war. Armies massing in the north. And there are these strange, hooded men in