"Dave Duncan - The Seventh Sword - 1 - The Reluctant Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

than the rest of the complex, but ideal for his purpose. Trouble, he knew, was seeking him out-it might as well be given as long a search as
possible.


The room was a small, bare chamber, higher than it was wide, with walls of sandstone blocks and a scarred floor of planks bearing one small,
threadbare rug. There were two doors, for which even giants need not have stooped, and a single window of diamond panes, whorled and dusty,
blurring the light to green and blue blotches. The window frame had warped so that it would not open, making the room stuffy, smelling of dust.
The only furniture was a pair of oaken settles. Honakura was perched on one of those, dangling his feet, trying to catch his breath, wondering if
there was any small detail he might have overlooked.


Knuckles tapped, a familiar face peered in and blinked at him. He sighed and rose as his nephew Dinartura entered, closed the door, and advanced
to make the salute to a superior.


"I am Dinartura," right hand to heart, "healer of the third rank," left hand to forehead, "and it is my deepest and most humble wish." palms together
at the waist.


"that the Goddess Herself," ripple motion with right hand, "will see fit to grant you long life and happiness," eyes up, hands at the sides, "and to
induce you to accept my modest and willing service," eyes down, "in any way in which I may advance any of your noble purposes," hands over
face, bow.


Honakura responded with the equally flowery acknowledgment, then waved him to the other settle.


"How is your dear mother?" he asked.


Dinartura was a stooped young man with thinning light-brown hair and the start of a potbelly. He had lately abandoned the kilt of youth for the
sleeveless gown of middle age, a cotton robe in the brown color of his rank, and he tended now to hold things very close to his nose when he
wanted to see them. He was the youngest of Honakura's sister's children and, in Honakura's opinion, an inexcusably prosaic dullard, boringly
reliable.


After the formalities had been given a respectable hearing, Honakura said, "And how is the patient?" He smiled, but he waited anxiously for the
reply.


"Still out cold when I left." Dinartura was presuming on his nephewship to be informal. "He has a bump on his head this big, but there are no
morbid signs. Eyes and ears are fine. I expect he will awaken in time, and be as good as new in a day or two."


Honakura sighed with relief, so the healer added hastily, "If She wills, of course. Head injuries are not predictable. If I did not know you, my lord
uncle, I would be more cautious."


"We must be patient, then. You think two days?"