"Raymond E. Feist - Kingdom of the Isles 1 - Prince of the Blood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

on his hands and too little sense. He was fashionably
attired in the latest rage among the young men of
Krondor, a short pair of breeches tucked into hose, al-
lowing the pants legs above the calf to balloon out. A
simple white shirt was embroidered with pearls and
semiprecious stones, and the jacket was the new cut-
away design, a rather garish yellow, with white and
silver brocade at the wrists and collar. He was a typical
dandy. And from the look of the Rodezian slamanca
hanging from the loose baldric across his shoulder, a
dangerous man. It was a sword only used by a master or
someone seeking a quick deathтАФin the hands of an
expert it was a fearsome weapon; in the hands of the
inexperienced it was suicide.

The man had probably lost large sums of money be-
fore and now sought to recoup his previous losses by
cheating at cards. One or the other of the sailors would
win an occasional hand, but the soldier was certain this
was planned to keep suspicion from falling upon the
young dandy. The soldier sighed, as if troubled by what
choice to make. The other two players waited patiently
for him to make his play.

They were twin brothers, tallтАФtwo inches over six
feet he judgedтАФand fit in appearance. Both came to the
table armed with rapiers, again the choice of experts or
fools. Since Prince Arutha had come to the throne of
Krondor twenty years before, rapiers had become the
choice of men who wore weapons as a consideration of
fashion rather than survival. But these two didn't look
the type to sport weapons as decorative baubles. They
were dressed as common mercenaries, just in from car-
avan duty from the look of them. Dust still clung to
their tunic and leather vest, while their red-brown hair
was lightly matted. Both needed a shave. Yet while their

Homecoming

clothing was common and dirty, there was nothing that
looked neglected about their armor or arms; they might
not pause to bathe after weeks on a caravan, but they
would take an hour to oil their leather and polish their
steel. They looked genuine in their part, save for a feel-
ing of vague familiarity which caused the soldier slight
discomfort: both spoke with none of the rough speech
common to mercenaries, but rather with the educated
crispness of those used to spending their days in court,
not fighting bandits. And they were young, little more
than boys.