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

He muttered satisfied comments to himself as his eyes went from one area to
another. Then, to Tika's astonishment, he suddenly dropped his staff, hitched up
the sleeves of his robes, and began rearranging the furniture!
Tika stopped sweeping and leaned on her broom. "What are you doing? That table's
always been there!"
A long, narrow table stood in the center of the common room. The old man dragged
it across the floor and shoved it up against the trunk of the huge vallenwood,
right across from the firepit, then stepped back to admire his work.
"There," he grunted. "S'posed to be closer to the firepit. Now bring over two
more chairs. Need six around here."
Tika turned to Otik. He seemed about to protest, but, at that moment, there was
a flaring light from the kitchen. A scream from the cook indicated that the
grease had caught fire again.
Otik hurried toward the swinging kitchen doors.
"He's harmless," he puffed as he passed Tika. "Let him do what he wants-within
reason. Maybe he's throwing a party."
Tika sighed and took two chairs over to the old man as requested. She set them
where he indicated.
"Now," the old man said, glancing around sharply. "Bring two more
chairs-comfortable ones, mind you-over here. Put them next to the firepit, in
this shadowy corner."
"'Tisn't shadowy," Tika protested. "It's sitting in full sunlight!"
"Ah"-the old man's eyes narrowed-"but it will be shadowy tonight, won't it? When
the fire's lit ... "
"I-I suppose so ..." Tika faltered.
"Bring the chairs. That's a good girl. And I want one, right here." The old man
gestured at a spot in front of the firepit. "For me."
"Are you giving a party. Old One?" Tika asked as she carriedmover the most
comfortable, well-worn chair in the Inn.
"A party?" The thought seemed to strike the old man as funny. He chuckled. "Yes,
girl. It will be a party such as the world of Krynn has not seen since before
the Cataclysm! Be ready, Tika Waylan. Be ready!"
He patted her shoulder, tousled her hair, then turned and lowered himself, bones
creaking, into the chair.
"A mug of ale," he ordered.
Tika went to pour the ale. It wasn't until she had brought the old man his drink
and gone back to her sweeping that she stopped, wondering how he knew her name.


1
Old friends meet.
A rude interruption.

Flint Fireforge collapsed on a moss-covered boulder. His old dwarven bones had
supported him long enough and were unwilling to continue without complaint.
"I should never have left," Flint grumbled, looking down into the valley below.
He spoke aloud, though there was no sign of another living person about. Long
years of solitary wandering had forced the dwarf into the habit of talking to
himself. He slapped both hands on his knees. "And I'll be damned if I'm ever
leaving again!" he announced vehemently.