"Ed Greenwood - Spellfire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenwood Ed)

"My axe also," the dwarf's sour voice cut through Burlane's rage. "I see no
sign of our charter from the king, nor Ferostil's shield. RymeP"
The bard was standing sadly by his pack. His shrug and empty hands told them
his lute was gone as well. The men of the company stared at each other mutely.
Everything dearest and of most value was gone.
Into the shocked silence came a knock upon the door.
Delg was nearest. Dourly he flung the door wide, expecting trouble. Over his
shaggy head they all saw the pale, solemn face of a young girl with large,
dark eyes. In one hand, she held their charter from the King of Cormyr. In the
other, she gripped a spear that flickered with a pale blue light. She stepped
calmly into the room past the astonished dwarf, cleared her throat in the
tense silence, and said softly, "I understand you need a thief."
in tbe Mist
If discomfort and danger be always at hand, why then adventure? There is
something in mankind that leads some always on to such foolishness, and the
rest of us benefit by the riches and knowledge and dreams they bring us. Why
else tolerate such dangerous idiots?
Helsuntiir of Athkatla
Musings
Ifear of the Winged Warm
The Company of the Bright Spear were six in number. The tall warrior Burlane
bore the magical Bright Spear and led the company. A younger bladesman rode
with him, the merry Ferostil. Delg, the dwarf, was also a warrior. His
constant companion was the bard Rymel, probably the brightest of them all. The
wizard Thail deferred to his younger, louder companions. Last and least of the
company was the thief, one Shandril, a bright-eyed, soft-spoken waif in
ill-fitting old breeches and a much-patched tunic.
They had nearly slain her when she had appeared with their missing gear, which
she had slipped away and stolen while the ladies Storm and Sharantyr were
facing down the company in the taproom. After their rage had subsided (under
Rymel's laughter), only Delg had protested against her joining, but the
fighterтАФwith the same avid look in his eyes that Korvan gotтАФwas enthusiastic.
So far, however, Ferostil had not bothered her.
Shandril had slipped out of the inn that same night to wait for the company in
the trees on the edge of Deepingdale,
ED GREENWOOD
leaving only a hastily scribbled note for Gorstag. She had spent anxious hours
in the dark with small forest creatures rustling and scuttling unseen around
her, afraid that the company would change their minds and ride off without
her. Shandril's heart had leaped when they had come into view through the dawn
mists, leading Lynxal's empty horse for her. She had trembled so with
excitement that she could hardly speak, but she had gotten into the saddle
somehow, though she had never before ridden a horse. She was relieved to
discover the dead thiefs weapons and gear strapped securely to the saddle,
though she had no idea how to use them either. She would just have to learn...
and
fast!
She'd taken nothing from the inn but the clothes she wore, and the single nice
gown that had been made for her. Robbing Gorstag seemed a poor way to repay
him for his kindness, and Shandril was not a thief at heart.