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

the dale. She grinned back after a moment, and then danced to match him.
Gorstag roared with laughter, joined by Shandril. Suddenly, the kitchen door
banged open and Korvan peered out angrily. Opening his mouth to scold
Shandril, he closed it again with an audible snap as the innkeeper leaned over
to smile closely at him.
Gorstag turned back to her and said, for Korvan's benefit, "Dishes done?"
"\fes, sir/' Shandril replied, giving a slight bow.
"Herbs cut and ready?"
"Tfes, sir." Shandril bowed again hastily to hide her growing smile.
"Going straight out for water. I like that ... I like that indeed. You'll make
a good innkeeper yourself someday. Then you could have a cook to do all those
things for you!" They both heard Korvan's sniff before the kitchen door
slammed. Shandril struggled to swallow her giggles.
"Good lass," Gorstag said warmly, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
Shandril smiled back at him through the hair that had fallen over her face
again. Well, at least someone appreciated her! She hurried off down the
well-worn, winding path of beaten earth and exposed tree-roots to the
Glaemril, to draw staggeringly heavy buckets of water for the kitchen. Tonight
would be a busy night. If Lureene did not bed with one of the travelers, she'd
have much to tell as Shandril hissed questions in the darkness of the loft:
who came from where, and where they were bound, and on what business. News,
too, and gossipтАФall the color and excitement of the world outside, the world
that Shandril had never seen.
ED GREENWOOD
Gratefully she waded out into the cool water, her bare feet avoiding the
unseen stones with long practice as she filled the old wooden buckets. Then,
grunting with the effort, she heaved them up onto the bank and stood for a
moment, hands on hips, looking up and down the cool, green passage of the
stream through Deepingdale's woods. She could not stay long, or swim or bathe
and get herself wetter than she was, but she could look... and dream. Past her
feet, the GlaemrilтАФDeeping Stream, some called it-rushed laughingly over rocks
to join the great river Ashaba that drained the northern dales and then turned
east to slip past rolling lands, full of splendid people and wondrous things,
lands that she would see, someday!
"Soon," she said firmly, as she climbed from the stream and took up the worn
wooden yoke. A heave, a momentary stagger under the great weight and she began
the long climb up through the trees back to the inn. Soon.
Adventurers were staying at The Rising Moon this night; a proud, splendid
group of men by the name of the Company of the Bright Spear. Lean and
dangerous in their armor and ready weaponry, they laughed often and loudly,
wore gold rings on their hands and at their ears, and drank much wine. Gorstag
had been busy with them all afternoon, for as he told Shandril with a wink as
he strode down the cellar stairs in search of old and cobweb-covered bottles
of wine, "It pays to keep adventurers happy, and it can be downright dangerous
if you do not." They would be in the taproom by now, Lureene already flirting
and flouncing saucily as she brought them wine and strong cider and aromatic
tobacco. Shandril promised herself she'd watch them from the passage, while
Korvan was busy with the pastry.
Shandril kicked the rusted pot by the back door so that the cook would hear
and let her into the kitchen. The chain rattled as Korvan threw up the