"Esther M. Friesner - Chicks 04 - The Chick Is In The Mail" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

Harald brought the knife up in one smooth motion, and laid the tip in an appropriate place. To his
surprise, the burly man neither flinched nor changed expression.

"No need for that," he said. "I just wanted to invite you to the Ladies' Aid and Armor Society Charity
Ball. Being as it's midwinter, and cruel dull for a stranger in town otherwise, with all the taverns closed for
three daysтАФI thought you might enjoy it."

"The Ladies' Aid and Armor Society? What's that, a bunch of women in bronze bras and fringe playing
with toy swords?"

The man laughed. "Not exactly. But they clean up nicer than usual, for the Charity Ball for the Orphans'
Fund. There's this contest, for queen; everybody who goes can vote. Thing is, the other cats pack the
place with their supporters, so although our Krystal is far and away the most beautiful, she never wins.
This year, we're changing that. All I want from you is a vote for her. We'll pay the donation and
everything."

These upriver barbarians had strange customs. Collecting money to support girl orphans, when girl
orphans properly managed could support him? Taverns closed three days? His crew would go crazy and
start breaking open barrels on their own; he couldn't afford that. This ball nowтАФfancy dress, jewels,
moneyтАФlooked like fun and profit combined.

"Tell you what," Harald said, slipping the knife back into his boot. "My friends wouldn't like it if I went
and they had to stay here with nothing to drink. If you can get us all in, that's more votes. How about it?"

"Great. My name's Gordamish Ringwearer, by the way; you can call me Gordy. I'll need all your names
for the invitationsтАФnobody gets in without one."
***

Mirabel Stonefist scowled at the stacks of invitations. Every year, she tried to argue the Planning
Committee into hiring a real scribe to address them, and every year the Committee insisted it was too
expensive. They had to have money for decorations, for the orchestra, for the food, and of course the
drink. Which meant that each member of the LA&AS had to address a stack of envelopes herself, in
whatever scrawly, scribbly, crabbed and illegible handwriting she possessed.
 Primula Hardaxe, chair of the Committee, always made some remark about Mirabel's handwriting.I
never claimed to be an artist , Mirabel thought, stabbing the tip of the quill into the ink-bowl.Not with
anything but a sword, that is. She looked at the list she'd been given. Naturally she was not entrusted
with the invitations to important persons. She hadn't been since the time her version of "Lord Pondicherry
and Lady Cordelia" was misread as "Lard Pound and Laid Coldeels" and delivered to the butcher's.

She was halfway through the list when her old resentment cleared and she noticed the names. Harald
Redbeard? She'd heard that name before, surely. She shook her head and copied it as carefully as she
could. Skyver Twoswords? Again, something tickled her memory then withdrew. Gordamish
Ringwearer? Probably the cavalry units; they recruited all sorts of people, not just the solid peasants and
smalltraders' children who ended up in thereal army.

She realized she'd just left the "g" out of Ringwearer, and muttered an oath. That's what thinking did for
you, caused mistakes. It wasn't up to her to decide who got invitations; all she had to do was address the
blasted things. She struggled through Piktush Drakbar, Zertin Dioth, Badaxe Oferbyte, and the rest.

At last, she had her stack finishedтАФsmudged with sweaty thumbprints, slightly rumpled, but finished.