"Esther M. Friesner - Troll By Jury" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

"Prosperous Husband. That's the whole point of having a Maiden Morn, letting a girl send out the word
that she's officially on the marriage market. Then, as soon as she finishes reciting the poemтАФ"
Zoli stopped spang dead in the middle of the path and slapped her forehead. "So that's it!" she
exclaimed. "That's why Ethelberthina's gone crabbier than an ogre with the itch: It's that stupid poem!"



"Doesn't want a prosperous husband?" Dean Porfirio inquired mildly.



"Doesn't need a prosperous husband, nor any other kind," Zoli said. "What a question! You know the
girl as well as IтАФmore to the point, you know her father. From the moment she was born, Mayor
Eyebright was her first, best, and only example of a prosperous husband."



Dean Porfirio's brow darkened. "That bloated sack of lizard droppings had me assaulted and left for
dead in an alley, once. And Ethelberthina still talks about how he kept trying to get his hands on her trust
fund. Hmph! No wonder the child doesn't want to advertise for a husband, even if it is no more than an
empty ritual: She must think they're all like her father."



"Even me?" Garth asked in a surprisingly small voice for one who had single-handedly destroyed his
share of dark legions, demon hordes, and effete high priests in his salad days.



"Of course not you." Zoli patted her husband's cheek. "It's not that Ethelberthina never wants a husband,
it's just that she thinks it's stupid to make folks think that's all she wants."



"Unlike her sisters," Garth remarked. Everyone nodded. Ethelberthina's elder sisters, Mauve and
Demystria, were famous in Overford song and story as being two of the most husband-hungry maidens
ever to flutter a fan, drop a hankie, or bat a set of eyelashes at anything midway male. Recently
Demystria had succeeded in her quest, using all her wiles and three bottles of Old Dragonbreath Reserve
to extract a promise of marriage from a blacksmith's apprentice. Her whoop of joy shattered forty-eight
neighborhood windows and her mother's best mirror.



"Ethelberthina's sisters would look quite natural in a pasture, chewing cud," said Zoli. "They take after
their mother: No brains, but a baby-maker that works overtime. What's she up to? Seven kids?"



"Eight, and a ninth in progress." Dean Porfirio made a few mystical gestures and created a white-hot ball