"Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar Legends - Murder In LaMut" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

now, it seemed, they had run out of Tsurani and goblins and Bugs to kill - at
least around here - and as soon as things thawed out enough, it was time for
him and the other two to be paid and to be going.

A few months of garrison duty until then was just fine. Actually, as long as
they were stuck here, Durine preferred the idea of garrison duty to being paid
off today and having to spend his own coin to eat and lodge. Durine's perfect
situation would have been to have the Earl pay for everything except drink and
women until this hypothetical thaw - and he included that limitation only
because he didn't think that even Pirojil could conceive of a way to cadge ale
and whores from the paymaster - then pay them their wages the day they rode
south for Ylith and a ship heading somewhere warmer.

Which made this, despite the mud and the cold, pretty close to perfect.

The heavy action was supposedly at Crydee these days, which meant that the
one place they could be sure the three of them were not going was Crydee. Come
spring, the privateer Melanie was due in Ylith. Captain Thorn could be counted
on for a swift conveyance and be relied upon not to try to murder them in
their sleep. That would be bad for one's health, as Thorn's predecessor had
barely realized in the instant before Pirojil had stuck a knife in his right
kidney while the late captain was standing, sword in hand, over what he had
thought was Durine's sleeping form. Given that Thorn owed his captaincy to
Durine and his companions' suspicious natures, he should be willing to
transport them for free, Durine thought.

Away where, though?

Still, that wasn't Durine's worry. Let Kethol and Pirojil worry about that.
Kethol would be able to find them somebody who needed three men who knew which
part of the sword you used to cut with and which part you used to butter your
bread; and Pirojil would be able to negotiate a price that was at least half
again what the employer thought he was ready to pay. All Durine would have to
do was to kill people.

Which was fine with him.

But until the ice broke the only way they would be leaving Yabon would be by
foot, horse, or cart, overland to Krondor. Their only other choice would be
heading back up north for more fighting, and right now they had earned enough
- when they actually got paid, of course - that their cloaks would be so
heavily laden with gold coin and their purses with silver coin that more
fighting wouldn't appeal to any of them.
Enough.

This stint had left him with a new set to add to his already burgeoning
collection of scars; a missing digit on his left hand from the time when he
hadn't pulled back quite quickly enough while dispatching a Bug with his
pikestaff. He now judged he would never play the lute. Not that he had ever
tried, but he always had it in mind that he might like to learn, some day.