"William Forstchen - Magic The Gathering - Arena" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forstchen William R)

out bundles of pomegranates, oranges, exotic fillagrits from across the flowing sea, exquisite and delicate
lollins, and other glistening delectables of red, green, orange, and deepest blue which Garth had never
seen before.

The merchant looked up at Hammen, shook her head with an exasperated smile, and tossed him a
pomegranate. Hammen motioned for her to favor Garth as well.

Garth took the fruit and bit into it, smiling as the juice trickled down his throat.

"It's good."

"Never had one before, have you?"

Garth said nothing as he finished off the treat, half-listening as Hammen and the merchant, who were
obviously old acquaintances, talked about the news of the city.

"The guards of the Grand Master swarmed through here last night like flies on the scent of offal," the
merchant announced, while all the time staring straight at Garth. "Looking for the fighter."

"So did they find him?"

"Oh, they arrested the usual suspects."

Hammen laughed and turned away. The merchant, smiling, tossed Garth three more pomegranates and
winked. Garth tucked them inside his open tunic.

"You won a lot of money for these people yesterday, plus you bearded an Orange," Hammen
announced. "You can eat free for awhile."

Hammen nodded to the dirty brown pennants that fluttered over many of the stalls lining the street.

"You can see, most folks in this quarter are Brown supporters."

"Why? The fighting Houses mean nothing to them and I'm certain the Houses don't give a good damn
what commoners think anyhow."

"How do you know that?"

"I think it's fair to assume such," Garth replied.

"You don't seem to understand much about the human soul, One-eye," Hammen replied. "For most of
these folk the Festival is the one thing to look forward to in their lives, that and the hope of a winning
lottery ticket. The games are everything.

"You can go to most any stall or swill dive"тАФand he pointed vaguely over to a tavern which was already
fullтАФтАЬand the meanest beggar can recite for you the wins, the spells possessed by his favorite fighter,
especially if that man or woman won him a few coppers in the wagers. Win money for the mob and
you're a hero."

"Some hero," Garth sniffed. "A fighter now would burn a peasant alive just to test a new spell and feel