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

town, hanging around with the High Theocrat, asking questions."
Otik looked at the nineteen-year-old girl fondly, reached out, and patted her
cheek. He'd been father to her, ever since her own had vanished so mysteriously.
He tweaked her red curls.
"War. Pooh." He sniffed. "There's been talk of war ever since the Cataclysm.
It's just talk, girl. Maybe the Theocrat makes it up just to keep people in
line."
"I don't know." Tika frowned. "I-"
The door opened.
Both Tika and Otik started in alarm and turned to the door. They had not heard
footsteps on the stairs, and that was uncanny! The Inn of the Last Home was
built high in the branches of a mighty vallenwood tree, as was every other
building in Solace, with the exception of the blacksmith shop. The townspeople
had decided to take to the trees during the terror and chaos following the
Cataclysm. And thus Solace became a tree town, one of the few truly beautiful
wonders left on Krynn. Sturdy wooden bridge-walks connected the houses and
businesses perched high above the ground where five hundred people went about
their daily lives. The Inn of the Last Home was the largest building in Solace
and stood forty feet off the ground. Stairs ran around the ancient vallenwood's
gnarled trunk. As Otik had said, any visitor to the Inn would be heard
approaching long before he was seen.
But neither Tika nor Otik had heard the old man.
He stood in the doorway, leaning on a worn oak staff, and peered around the Inn.
The tattered hood of his plain, gray robe was drawn over his head, its shadow
obscuring the features of his face except for his hawkish, shining eyes.
"Can I help you. Old One?" Tika asked the stranger, exchanging worried glances
with Otik. Was this old man a Seeker spy?
"Eh?" The old man blinked. "You open?"
"Well . . " Tika hesitated.
"Certainly," Otik said, smiling broadly. "Come in. Gray-beard. Tika, find our
guest a chair. He must be tired after that long climb."
"Climb?" Scratching his head, the old man glanced around the porch, then looked
down to the ground below. "Oh, yes. Climb. A great many stairs .. ." He hobbled
inside, then made a playful swipe at Tika with his staff. "Get along with your
work, girl. I'm capable of finding my own chair."
Tika shrugged, reached for her broom, and began sweeping, keeping her eyes on
the old man.
He stood in the center of the Inn, peering around as though confirming the
location and position of each table and chair in the room. The common room was
large and bean-shaped,
wrapping around the trunk of the vallenwood. The trees smaller limbs supported
the floor and ceiling. He looked with particular interest at the fireplace,
which stood about three-quarters of the way back into the room. The only
stonework in the Inn, it was obviously crafted by dwarven hands to appear to be
part of the tree, winding naturally through the branches above. A bin next to
the side of the firepit was stacked high with cordwood and pine logs brought
down from the high mountains. No resident of Solace would consider burning the
wood of their own great trees. There was a back route out the kitchen; it was a
forty-foot drop, but a few of Otik's customers found this setup very convenient.
So did the old man.