"David Eddings - Ellenium 1 - The Diamond Throne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

The district near the gate was poor, with shabby, rundown houses standing
tightly packed beside each other with their upper floors projecting out
over the wet, littered street. Crude signs swung creaking on rusty hooks in
the night wind, identifying this or that tightly shuttered shop on the
street-level floors. A wet, miserable-looking cur slunk across the street
with his ratlike tail between his legs. Otherwise, the street was dark and
empty.
A torch burned fitfully at an intersection where
another street crossed the one upon which Sparhawk
rode. A sick young whore, thin and wrapped in a shabby
blue cloak, stood hopefully under the torch like a pale,
frightened ghost. 'Would you like a nice time, sir?' she
whined at him. Her eyes were wide and timid, and her
face gaunt and hungry.
He stopped, bent in his saddle, and poured a few small
coins into her grimy hand. 'Go home, little sister, ' he told
her in a gentle voice. 'it's late and wet, and there'll be no
customers tonight.' Then he straightened and rode on,
leaving her to stare in grateful astonishment after him.
He turned down a narrow side' street clotted with
shadow and heard the scurry of feet somewhere in the
rainy dark ahead of him. His ears caught a quick,
whispered conversation in the deep shadows somewhere to his left.
The roan snorted and laid his ears back.
'its nothing to get excited about,' Sparhawk told him.
The big man's voice was very soft, almost a husky


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whisper. It was the kind of voice people turned to hear.
Then he spoke more loudly, addressing the pair of
hoods lurking in the shadows. 'I'd like to accommodate you, neighbours,' he
said, but it's late, and I'm not
in the mood for casual entertainment. Why don't you go
rob some drunk young nobleman instead, and live to
steal another day?' To emphasize his words, he threw
back his damp cloak to reveal the leather-bound hilt of
the plain broadsword belted at his side.
There was a quick, startled silence in the dark street,
followed by the rapid patter of fleeing feet.
The big roan snorted derisively. 'My sentiments exactly,'
Sparhawk agreed, pulling his cloak back around him.
"Shall we proceed?'
They entered a large square surrounded by hissing
torches where most of the brightly coloured canvas
booths had their fronts rolled down. A few forlornly
hopeful enthusiasts remained open for business,