"Sharon Green - Lady Blade, Lord Fighter 01 - Silver Bracers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Sharon)

he was indoors and warm again.

As he drew rein and began to dismount in front of the wide steps of the residence, the front door opened
unexpectedly and a boy emerged, muffled to the ears and wearing a woolen cap which couldn't have
offset the thinness of his threadbare coat and trousers. The boy pulled the door shut behind him, hurried
recklessly down the slippery-looking steps into the torchlit night, then put a thin hand on Timper's bridle.

"I'll see to him for you, sir," the boy said in a voice that cracked more from the cold than his age, bobbing
where he stood in a parody of proper bowing. "You go right on in to where it's warm, an" I'll put him in
the sheds behind."

Timper nodded and surrendered his mount without demur-ral, pleasantly surprised to see that the
amenities weren't entirely lost to those of the north, then climbed the steps toward the front door. Behind
him the boy had hesitated very briefly before leading his horse away, just as though he had expected
something more from Timper than a nod, but he couldn't imagine what that might be. Residences in the
south always had a boy to see to one's horse, and they never expected more than a nod. After all, was
he expected to give stabling directions for what would be a visit of no more than a few minutes at the
most?

The door opened again as Timper reached it, this time wide enough to let him enter. The entrance hall
was lamp lit and warm, especially when the serving man closed the door behind him, then turned to give
him a far more proper bow.

"Allow me to take your cloak, sir," the man offered, already reaching for the garment in question. He was
dressed in striped silk with knee hose and buckled shoes, but the scrupulously correct tailoring usually
worn by servants of the upper class failed to hide his outrageously large size. One normally chose
servants of lesser proportions for one's household, Timper knew, to keep one's guests from needing to
look upward in so uncomfortable a manner, but he was hardly there to school those of the north in
common courtesy. His commission was far more important than that, and he was anxious to get on with
it.

"I shan't be staying long enough for that," Timper denied with a wave of his hand, looking around at the
polished-wood paneling of the entrance hall and the closed doors that led from it to the house proper. "I
am a courier of the Duke Rilfe of the House of Kienne in the Duchy of Gensea, and have been told that
the lady Sofaltis of the same House might be found here. I must insist that I be taken to her at once."

"I do beg your pardon, sir, but I'm afraid that that would be a matter best discussed with my mistress,"
the man replied, withdrawing his hands with a small, odd smile curving his lips. "Til have someone take
you to her."

"Gad, man, have you no ears?" Timper snapped, long since out of patience with the numberless
obstructions he'd found in his path. "I have no wish to see your mistress, I wish to seeтАж"

His words ended in near-outrage as the servant dared to turn his back and take up a small hammer lying
in front of a set of crystal bells, and then purposefully strike one of the bells. The pure crystal tone was
sweet and considerably more penetrating than Timper would have expected, and the first door to the
right opened outward to show another servant like the first, properly dressed but hardly properly-sized.

"This gentleman is here in search of a particular lady," the first servant said to the second, his tone entirely
uninflected. "He will, of course, need to speak to the mistress."