"01 - A Difficulty With Dwarves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Craig Shaw)

The smallest of the three stepped forward. I was shocked

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to realize that he was only an inch or two shorter than I was. Exactly how tall were his companions?

'Excuse us, fella,' the shorter one said. 'You wouldn't know where we might be able to find some guy named Wuntvor, would you?'

'Yeah.' One of the big ones laughed. 'Wuntvor.'

'Why, yes,' I began somewhat hesitantly. My battle senses were instantly alert. My palm sweated where I gripped my stout oak staff. I searched hard to explain this sudden feeling. For some odd reason these three newcomers seemed slightly threatening. Still, it must be my imagination, the result of spending far too long fighting in the Netherhells, where you might find danger lurking behind every stalactite. I must remember, I told myself: In our recent battle to defeat demonkind, all of Vushta had banded together to fight creatures of every description. After that, what need did humans have to fight each other?

I looked into the newcomers' faces, one after another. After a moment's hesitation I answered, 'I am Wuntvor.'

'Really?' the shorter fellow said. Somehow, he didn't look at all surprised. 'Not the same Wuntvor who is apprenticed to Ebenezum, a certain magician from the Western Kingdoms?'

'Ebenezum is the greatest mage in all the Western Kingdoms!' I replied far more quickly. I didn't like their tone. What were they implying about my master?

'Oh, no doubt, no doubt.' The fellow doffed his cap. 'I merely wanted to introduce myself and my companions here to the right person. You see, Wuntvor, we are apprentices, too. That's right. Just like you. Here, I want you to meet Slag. . .'

'Yeah.' The big guy to his left laughed. 'Slag.'

'. . . and over here is Vermin.'

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Vermin doffed his hat with his knife.

'They call me Grott,' the shorter fellow continued as he placed his hat back on his head. 'We're all very pleased to meet you.'

'Yeah.' Slag snickered. 'Pleased.'

Vermin played with his knife.

'Now,' Grott said, 'you may be wondering what three busy apprentices like us are doing, hanging around on street corners?' He smiled ingratiatingly. 'Well, actually, we've been waiting here for you. You see, we have a little business.'

'Yeah.' Slag giggled. 'Business.'

Vermin used his knife to idly chip away large chunks of plaster from the building he leaned against.

'You see,' Grott continued, 'we represent a local organization, the Vushta Apprentice Guild.'

'Really?' I replied. I had obviously misjudged these three completely. They were naught but a welcoming committee. How much luckier was I than Hendrek! I had a guild of my very own. I asked the three if they wanted me to join.

'Well,' Grott went on, the smile still large on his face, 'I don't think you quite understand. If you're an apprentice, you're in the guild. Here in Vushta, there's no way around it. And since you're a member, we've got a little proposition for you.'

'Yeah.' Slag guffawed. 'Propo, uh . . . proposition.'

Vermin moved casually to the corner of the building nearest to me. He began to pry bricks out of the wall.