"Esther M. Friesner - Chicks 02 - Did You Say Chicks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

up. She claimed her methods worked as well as the time-honored bucket of water from the stable-yard
well, but the sergeants didn't agree. Mirabel, like most of the guards, thoroughly enjoyed sousing the
high-born with a bucket of cold water.

"WellтАФthe queen, for one, and the Capitola girls. You know how thick their ankles were, and how they
complained about exercisingтАж" The Capitola girls had taken their complaint to the queen, who hated the
women soldiers.

"YesтАж ?"

"They were wearing those new gowns slit up to here, that float out on the fast turns, and their legs were
incredible."

"I can imagine," Krystal sniffed. "People with thighs like oxen shouldn't wear that styleтАФ"

"NoтАФI mean long, slender, graceful. Even their ankles. I wondered what the Shape-Up classes had
been doing."

"ButтАФ" Blanche frowned. "The last time they were in our classes, they had taken perhaps a tailors tuck
off those thighs, but their ankles were still thick."

"They must've found someone who knows more about exercise than we do," Mirabel said. "And that's
why they're not coming to our classes any more."

"Nobody knows more about exercise than soldiers," Blanche said. "There's no way to change flab to
muscle that our sergeants haven't put us through."

"There must be something," Mirabel said, "and we had better find it."

They were interrupted by the doorward, who ushered in a handsome woman muffled in a cloak far too
warm for the day. Mirabel perked up; anything was better than staring at those figures another moment.
She had the feeling that staring at them would never change red ink to black.

"Ladies," the woman said, in a voice meant to carry only from pillow to pillow, not across a drillfield. "I
understand that you have aтАж an exercise program?"

"Why yes," Blanche said, before Mirabel could speak. "We specialize in promoting fitness for
womenтАж"
 "I have a problem," the woman said, and put back the hood of her cloak. Mirabel gaped. She knew
Dorcas by sight, of course, because she had often been the official escort for visiting dignitaries when
they went out on the town. She had watched the more public parts of Dorcas's performance, and had
thought to herself that if the dancer were instead a fighter, she would already be in condition.

"You?" got out before Mirabel could repress it.

"Someone stole my belly," the woman said. She stood up, and unwrapped the cloak. Under it she wore
a sheer, loose, nightshirtтАж and under the nightshirt was a soft, billowy expanse of crepey skin. "My
plastic wizard," Dorcas went on, "tells me that this belly belongs to someone else, but he cannot tell
whose it isтАФonly that it's very likely sheтАФwhoever she isтАФhas mine. He can't get mine back, until he
knows where it is, and whether this was a simple exchange or something more complicated. Even then