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

We think thatDid You Say "Chicks"?! does its sister-volume proud. You'll recognize some of our
authors fromChicks in Chainmail, back with new tales of Women Who Slay Too Much (And the Men
Who Prudently Get Out of the Way), but you'll also encounter plenty of stories from some new
contributors. We hope you'll enjoy them all.

The woman warrior in fantasy fiction is no longer merely a stereotyped barbarian tough who just
happens to wear a skirt instead of a loincloth. Has humor humanized a formerly two-dimensional
character? I like to think so. There are still all sorts of battles for us to fight, and many different kinds of
armor for us to wear.

And we're still strong enough to keep on laughing.




No Pain, No Gain

Elizabeth Moon

┬л^┬╗



Meryl the shepherdess woke from nightmares in which she waded through glue on grotesquely swollen
legs. She opened her eyes to the smoky rafters of her mother's little hut, and stretched luxuriously. Bad
dreams make good days, Gran always said. Flinging back the covers, she rolled out of bed and burst into
screams. There they were, attached to her own wiry bodyтАФthe plump soft legs of her dream, and when
she took a step, it felt as if she were wading through glue. She didn't stop screaming until her mother
slapped her smartly across the mouth. Gran said it was the Evil Eye, and probably the fault of Jamis the
cowherd's second wife, no better than she should be, jealous becausehergirl had a mole on her nose, for
which she had blamed everyone but herself. Everyone knew that the Evil Eye didn't cause moles on the
nose: those came from poking and prying.

Meryl's new flabby legs ached abominably for days, but eventually she was able to keep up with her
flock without too much trouble. Gran had a quiet word with The Kind One, and the cowherd's
step-daughter broke out in disgusting pustules very like cowpox next market-day. Meryl figured it was all
over, but she still wished for her own legs back.



Dorcas Doublejoints, justly famed dancer at The Scarlet Veil, could do things with her abdominal
musculature which fascinated the most discerning clients, and resulted in a steady growth in her bank
account. She had trained since childhood, when her Aunt Semele had noticed the anatomical marks of
potential greatness. So now, in the lovely space between her ribs and her pubic bone, all was perfectly
harmonious, muscle and a delicately calculated amount of "smoothing," and unblemished skin with one
artfully placed moleтАФthe only plastic wizardry in which Dorcas had ever had to indulge, since by nature
she had no marks there at all.

She woke near noon, after an unpleasant dream she attributed to that new shipment of wineтАж until she