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

of light that immediately vaporized the surrounding fog for the radius of a good spear-cast. "Ah, there we
are." He smiled up at the overhanging bulk of the toll bridge.



Zoli uttered a meaty curse. "Oh, wonderful. We've blundered right under the hideous thing. Now we'll
have to climb back up the bank to cross on it."



"Don't bother; we're too late already," said Garth, pointing. The remaining mist had decided to move on
before Dean Porfirio sizzled it into oblivion; the view across the Iron River was clear. From their vantage
point on the Academy side, Ethelberthina's three friends saw the crowd of guests massed on the farther
shore. Ethelberthina herself was already knee-deep, a crown of rosebuds perched at a tipsy angle on her
head, her brand-new birthday dress kilted up between her legs but the long sky-blue cloak on her
shoulders trailing heavily in the water. A plump, usually chipper child, she currently wore an expression
popularized by dispirited captives everywhere. Behind her there hovered a large, obviously pregnant
woman whose radiant smile more than made up for Ethelberthina's dejection.



"Stand up straight, dear!" the lady chirped. "You'll get your gown wet otherwise."



"Ah, Goodwife Eyebright," Dean Porfirio murmured. "But I don't see her husband anywhere."



"You wouldn't; this isn't about him," Garth said. "When he's not the center of attention, he stays away."



"Now are you certain you know all the words of the Prayer, darling?" Goodwife Eyebright went on.



"Yes, Mother." Ethelberthina sounded weary.



"You're sure? You wouldn't want to humiliate me in front of all our relatives. I don't mind working and
slaving to give birth to you, and to make you a lovely home, and to cook and sew and clean up after you
with not one word of gratitude. A mother doesn't expect gratitude. But if you wouldn't mind too much,
my precious, could you possibly avoid embarrassing me?"



"Yes, Mother."