"Edghill,.Rosemary.-.Empty.Crown.Trilogy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Edghill Rosemary)

vacation from common sense. Silver jeweled buttons?

Pointed ears?

Maybe they'd wash off while he was in the shower.

Speaking of which, she'd better hurry up.

The scarlet tunic was wool-that was an easy one-with appliques of felt
and leather on the breast and at the elbow-length sleeves. The front
laced shut, the vexed grommet question having been settled by
interleaving a thin piece of punched leather between the two layers of
wool so that the rawhide theng wouldn't cause the wool to stretch.

Once more the fabric was sumptuous, the workmanship superb. As in
"several thousand dollars of custom tailoring" superb, and even if you
could afford to buy it, who could you find to do it?

It was too much money to spend playing dress-up for a joke.

She turned her attention to the cape.

It was a dull blotchy thing, green and gray and brown, contemptible
until you realized that pure white wool had been carefully painted with
these very colors, because a man wearing such a cape-no matter how
scarlet his tunic-would not be visible in a woods or from any great
distance. It was half-lined with sheepskins and fastened shut halfway
down its length by a system of horn buttons and leather loops sewn to
the inside face. It was thick as a blanket in her hands; she could not
imagine how Melior could have stood up in it, especially once it had
gotten wet.

Carefully she spread it over the back of a chair to dry and turned to
the boots. High soft Errol Flynn style boots, reaching above the knee
and notched so they could be folded over to cuff in proper buccaneer
style.

Soft and silky as a well-oiled Coach bag.

And strapped to instep and heel, spurs of bronze and jeweled gold.

She was sure about that. Ruth had haunted enough craft fairs to know
the look of handmade jewelry. She set the boots down carefully,
soberly, heels together.

That left, for her delectation, a baldric and swordbelt, both top-grade
harness leather. The belt was at least six inches wide and riveted
with small silver roundels, each of which supported a silver ring. The
forsoothly equivalent of the sadly-defunct Banana Republic
photojournalist's vest: a ring for everything, and everything on its