"David Gemmell - Drenai Tales 05 - In the Realm of the Wolf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

in his chair.
'Why don't you just pour it from the bottle?' asked Angel, his grey eyes
staring unblinking at the tavern-keeper.
Balka chuckled. 'It tastes better from clay.'
'Horse dung!' Angel reached across the table, lifting the jug and holding it
below his misshapen nose. 'It's Lentrian red ... at least fifteen years old.'
Twenty,' said Balka, grinning.
'You don't like people knowing you're rich enough to drink it,' observed
Angel. 'It would tarnish the image. Man of the people.'
'Rich? I'm just a poor tavern-keeper.'
'And I'm a Ventrian veil-dancer.'
Balka nodded and filled his goblet. 'To you, my friend,' he said, draining the
drink in a single swallow, wine overflowing to his forked grey beard. Angel
smiled and pushed back his hood, running his hand across his thinning red
hair. 'May the gods shower you with luck,' said Balka, pouring a second drink
and downing it as swiftly as the first.
'I could do with some.'
'No hunting parties?'
'A few - but no one wants to spend money these days.'
'Times are hard,' agreed Balka. 'The Vagrian Wars bled the treasury dry and
now that Karnak's upset the Gothir and the Ventrians I think we can expect
fresh battles. A pox on the man!'
'He was right to throw out their ambassadors,' said Angel, eyes narrowing.
'We're not a vassal people. We're the Drenai and we shouldn't bend the knee to
lesser races.'
'Lesser races?' Balka raised an eyebrow. This may surprise you, Angel, but I
understand that non-Drenai people also boast two arms, two legs and a head.
Curious, I know.'
'You know what I mean,' snapped Angel.
'I know - I just don't happen to agree with you. Here, enjoy a little quality
wine.'
Angel shook his head. 'One drink is all I need.'
'And you never finish that. Why do you come here? You hate people. You don't
talk to them and you don't like crowds.'
'I like to listen.'
'What can you hear in a tavern, save drunkards and loud-mouths? There is
little philosophy spoken here that I've ever heard.'
Angel shrugged. 'Life. Rumours. I don't know.'
Balka leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on the table. 'You miss it,
don't you? The fights, the glory, the cheers.'
'Not a bit,' responded the other.
'Come on, this is Balka you're talking to. I saw you the
day you beat Barsellis. He cut you bad - but you won. I saw your face as you
raised your sword to Karnak. You were exultant.'
'That was then. I don't miss it. I don't long for it,' Angel sighed, 'but I
remember the day, right enough. Good fighter was Barsellis, tall, proud, fast.
But they dragged his body across the arena. You remember that? Face-down he
was, and his chin made a long, bloody groove in the sand. Could have been me.'
Balka nodded solemnly. 'But it wasn't. You retired undefeated - and you never
went back. That's unusual. They all come back. Did you see Caplyn last week?