"Doranna Durgin - Wolverine's Daughter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Durgin Doranna)

his eyes. She said, "Protect this woman well, cocker, orтАФRema curse youтАФI will come for you." She
looked over at the woman, who still cowered against the building, seemingly unable to comprehend how
quickly the fates had turned on her tormenter. "I'll be around."

And she was, at least for a while. Oblivious of the stir her actions had caused, over the next few days
Kelyn found several establishments willing to pay her for fresh meat. While dawn and dusk found her
stalking game on the plains, perfecting her newly acquired skills of hunting in this environment, during the
day she strolled the town, learning the ways of people outside Ketura. She discovered a small population
of ragged, independent children who were as adept with their tongues as they were with their thieving
fingers, and from them she learned the most. They were, she thought, much like her own hunting
packтАФonly their territory was here in this civilized worldтАФand she accorded them respect for it. In turn
they fed her gossip, told her stories, explained who was who, and what they did for the town . . . orto it.

The oldest child's name was Aktel, and one day as she put down her coin and contemplated which of
the nut vendor's wares to sample nextтАФfor he had been scrupulously polite to her since that first
dayтАФhe came running to her. The vendor started at his sudden arrival and instantly snapped, "Here, you!
Get away from my nuts!"

Kelyn said, "He is here to talk to me. Yournuts are safe." At her scowl, he backed up, his hands
reflexively moving to protect himself. She turned to the boy. "Aktel, what?"

"The lady," Aktel said, his face serious beneath its accustomed smear of dirt. "The one you helped.
Busted Balls has her in the tavern, andтАФ"

That was enough. She tossed him a nut, one of the biggestтАФthe man had said it came from some jungle
so far south that the people there were all black, but she didn't believe it herselfтАФand ran for the tavern
on feet that no longer stepped on other people's heels nor rarely tripped over themselves, for she was
accustomed to the sounds, sights, and smells of the town now, and didn't find them such a distraction.

But she would never grow accustomed to the thick smells of the tavern. She wrinkled her nose as she
stepped into the already open doorway, Aktel at her heels no matter how many times she waved him off.
The place was noisy, and overcrowded, and always too warm; the occupants moved in an
extemporaneous dance of customers, serving wenches, and the ever-changing number of scantily clad
women who were always thrusting their personal wares in some man's face.

As soon as her eyes grew used to the squat building's dim light, Kelyn saw what she was there to see.
The man she'd already dealt with once, loud and laughing, sat with his back to her and his face to the
half-score of friends seated around a rough round table and laughing along with him. The woman, her
face bruised, one arm cradled protectively close to her side, sat on the filthy, ale-and-worse soaked floor
by his feet, where she'd evidently been commanded to stay.

Busted Balls, Aktel had called himтАФsheought to have, too. But that would still have left him the ability
to hit this woman and any other. . . .

Kelyn stalked through the tavern, half aware of the hasty shifting and dodging that cleared her path. The
expression on his friends' faces must have warned the man, for he turned to see Kelyn coming, his hands
on the table to steady himself after who knew how many tankers of the thick ale this place served.

"Itold you ," Kelyn said, and brought her staff down hard on both his hands.
***