"R A Salvatore - Icewind Dale Trilogy 2 - Streams of Silver" - читать интересную книгу автора (Salvatore R. A)

from many of the settlers. Bruenor named him a true friend, though, and
Drizzt had willingly set out beside the dwarf on the trek, despite his
apprehension that once he moved out beyond the influence of his reputation,
the treatment he received would be less than civil.
Every so often, Drizzt dropped back the dozen yards or so to check on
the fourth member of the party. Huffing and puffing, Regis the halfling
brought up the rear of the troupe (and not by choice) with a belly too
round for the road and legs too short to match the pumping strides of the
dwarf. Paying now for the months of luxury he had enjoyed in the palatial
house in Bryn Shander, Regis cursed the turn of luck that had forced him to
the road. His greatest love was comfort and he worked at perfecting the
arts of eating and sleeping as diligently as a young lad with dreams of
heroic deeds swung his first sword. His friends were truly surprised when
he joined them on the road, but they were happy to have him along, and even
Bruenor, so desperate to see his ancient homeland again, took care not to
set the pace too far beyond Regis's ability to keep up.
Certainly Regis pushed himself to his physical limits, and without his
customary complaining. Unlike his companions, though, whose eyes looked to
the road up ahead, he kept glancing back over his shoulder, back toward
Ten-Towns and the home he had so mysteriously abandoned to join in the
journey.
Drizzt noted this with some concern.
Regis was running away from something.

The companions kept their westerly course for several days. To their
south, the snow-capped peaks of the jagged mountains, the Spine of the
World, paralleled their journey. This range marked the southern boundary to
Icewind Dale and the companions kept an eye out for its end. When the
westernmost peaks died away to flat ground, they would turn south, down the
pass between the mountains and the sea, running out of the dale altogether
and down the last hundred mile stretch to the coastal city of Luskan.
Out on the trail each morning before the sun rose at their backs, they
continued running into the last pink lines of sunset, stopping to make camp
at the very last opportunity before the chill wind took on its icy
nighttime demeanor.
Then they were back on the trail again before dawn, each running within
the solitude of his own perspectives and fears.
A silent journey, save the endless murmur of the eastern wind.

Book 1:
Searches

1
A Dagger at Their Backs

He kept his cloak pulled tightly about him, though little light seeped
in through the curtained windows, for this was his existence, secretive and
alone. The way of the assassin.
While other people went about their lives basking in the pleasures of
the sunlight and the welcomed visibility of their neighbors, Artemis