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

knew of her town of Highmoon was what she could see from the inn-yard. She'd
never more than thought of running away or just slipping off to have a look.
She was always too busy, too behind with her work, or too tired.
There was always work to be done. Each spring she even washed the ceilings of
all the bedchambers while tied to a ladder so she wouldn't fall off.
Sharp-eyed old Tezza did the windows, all those tiny panes of mica and a few
panels of blown glass from Selgaunt and Hillsfar, which were far too valuable
for Shandril to be trusted to wash.
SPELLFIBE
Shandril didn't mind most of the work, really. She just hated getting extra
tired or hurt while the others did little or, like Korvan, bothered her.
Besides, if she didn't work, or she fought with the othersтАФall more necessary
to the running of The Rising Moon than Shandril ShessairтАФshe'd upset Gorstag.
And more than anything (except, maybe, to have a real adventure), Shandril
wanted to please Gorstag.
The owner of The Rising Moon was a broad-shouldered, strong man with
gray-white hair, gray eyes, and a craggy, weathered face. He'd broken his nose
long ago, perhaps in the days when he had been an adventurer. Gorstag had been
all over the world, people said, swinging his axe in important wars. He had
made quite a lot of gold before settling down in Deepingdale, in the heart of
the forest, and rebuilding his father's old inn. Gorstag was kind and quiet
and sometimes gruff, but it was he who insisted that Shandril have a good gown
for feast-days and when important folk stopped at the inn, even though Korvan
said she'd serve them better by staying in the kitchen.
It was also Gorstag who had insisted that she have a last name, when, years
ago, the chamber girls had called her "a nameless nobody," and "a cow too
runty to keep, so someone threw it away!" The innkeeper had come into the room
and spoken in a voice that had frightened Shandril into silence in mid-sob, a
voice that made her think of cold steel and executioners and priestly dooms.
"Such wordsтАФand all others like themтАФwill never be spoken in this house
again." Gorstag never hit women or spanked girls, but he had taken off his
belt then, as he did when he thrashed the stable boy for cruel pranks. The
girls were both white-faced, and one started to cry, but Gorstag never touched
them. He closed the door of the room and set a chair against it. Then he
walked over to the girls, who were both whimpering and, saying nothing, he
swung the belt high and brought it crashing down on the floorboards so hard
that the dust curled up and the door rattled. Then he put on his belt, took
the shocked Shandril gently by the shoulder, and led her from the room,
closing the door again behind him.
He had led her down to the taproom and said thickly, "I call you Shandril
Shessair, for it is your truename. Do not
ED GREENWOOD
forget, for your name is precious." Then Shandril had asked him, voice
quavering, "Was I so named by my parents?"
Gorstag shook his head slightly and gave her a sad smile. "In the Realms,
little one, you can take any name you can carry. Mind you cany it well."
Yes, Gorstag had been good to her, and The Rising Moon was like him: kind and
good, well-worn and bluntly honest, and lots of hard work. Day after day of
hard work. It was her cage, Shandril thought fiercely, reaching for another
dish while the sweat ran down her back.