"Dave Duncan - A Man Of His Word 1 - Magic Casement" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

"I won't ever speak to you again!"
They glared at each other for a moment. Rap as a man-at-arms? She remembered now
that he had expressed some silly ambition to play with swords. It was an idiotic
idea. He was tremendously good with horses. He had a natural gift for them.
"What good do you think you're doing standing here with that stupid pike? "
"I'm guarding the palace!"
Inos snorted before she remembered again that snorting was not regal. "From
what? Dragons? Sorcerers? Imperial legions? " He was growing very angry now, she
was pleased to see, but he made a great effort to answer civilly. "I challenge
strangers." Tommyrot! She suppressed another snort; and there, as if sent by the
Gods, a stranger came strolling across the yard toward the gate.
"Right!" Inos said. "Challenge this one."
Rap bit his lip. "He doesn't look very dangerous."
"Challenge! I want to see how it's done." He clenched his big jaw angrily.
"Stand back, then!" As the stranger drew near, Rap swung his pike to the level,
took one pace with his left foot, and demanded loudly, "Who goes there--fiend or
froe?"
The young man stopped, raised his eyebrows, and considered the question. "You're
new at this, aren't you?" he asked in a pleasant tenor.
Rap turned very red and said nothing, waiting for an answer. Inos suppressed a
snigger, letting just enough escape that Rap would know it was there.
"Well, I'm not a fiend." The stranger was quite young, slim, and not very tall,
but a blond jotunn nonetheless. Anyone less like a fiend Inos could not imagine.
He wore a brown wool cloak with the hood back, a leather doublet, and rather
baggy brown hose. She decided that his clothes were all too big for him, which
made him seem shabbier than he truly was. He was fresh-faced and scrubbed and
clean-a point of note in Krasnegar-and the sun blazed on his white-gold hair.
"Definitely I'm not a fiend," he repeated. "I'm a wandering minstrel, so I
suppose I'm either a to or a froe. Yes, I must be a froe. "
"What's your name, minstrel?" Rap demanded hoarsely.
"My name is Jalon. " But the stranger's attention had wandered to Inos. He
bowed. "And I know who this is. Your humble servant, Highness."
He had big blue eyes, with a dreamy air that she found quite appealing. On
impulse, she held out her hand. He took it in his long minstrel's fingers and
kissed it.
"I saw you when you were very small, Highness." He had a charming smile. "I knew
then that one day you would amaze the world with your beauty. But I see that I
underestimated it." He was a very nice young man.
"If you're a minstrel, why haven't you got a harp?" Rap was still holding his
pike at the challenge position.
"How long did you see me?" Inos asked. He could not be so very many years older
than she was. She could not recall any minstrel so young. Perhaps he had been an



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apprentice accompanying his master.
He smiled vaguely at her and turned to Rap. "Harps are heavy. " He pulled a pipe