"David Eddings - Belgariad 2 - Queen of Sorcery" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

"I see you've managed to soak your feet."

Garion lifted one of his sodden brown boots and looked down at the muddy
slush clinging to it. "The snow's wetter than I thought," he apologized.

"Does wearing that thing really make you feel better?" Mister Wolf asked,
pointing at the sword Garion always wore now.

"Everybody keeps saying how dangerous Arendia is," Garion explained.
"Besides, I need to get used to it." He shifted the creaking new leather
sword belt around until the wirebound hilt was not so obvious. The sword
had been an Erastide present from Barak, one of several gifts he had
received when the holiday had passed while they were at sea.

"It doesn't really suit you, you know," the old man told him somewhat
disapprovingly.

"Leave him alone, father," Aunt Pol said almost absently. "It's his, after
all, and he can wear it if he likes."

"Shouldn't Hettar be here by now?" Garion asked, wanting to change the
subject.

"He may have run into deep snow in the mountains of Sendaria," Wolf
replied. "He'll be here. Hettar's very dependable."

"I don't see why we just didn't buy horses in Camaar."

"They wouldn't have been as good," Mister Wolf answered, scratching at his
short, white beard. "We've got a long way to go, and I don't want to have
to worry about a horse foundering under me somewhere along the way. It's a
lot better to take a little time now than to lose more time later."

Garion reached back and rubbed at his neck where the chain of the curiously
carved silver amulet Wolf and Aunt Pol had given him for Erastide had
chafed his skin.

"Don't worry at it, dear," Aunt Pol told him.

"I wish you'd let me wear it outside my clothes," he complained. "Nobody
can see it under my tunic."

"It has to be next to your skin."

"It's not very comfortable. It looks nice enough, I suppose, but sometimes
it seems cold, and other times it's hot, and once in a while it seems to be
awfully heavy. The chain keeps rubbing at my neck. I guess I'm not used to
ornaments."

"It's not entirely an ornament, dear," she told him. "You'll get used to it