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

"Well," Ghondarrath said dryly, "look what I've found." The room fell silent,
save for the crackle of the fire. No one moved. Shandril clutched the dagger
fiercely in excitement. She knew she should creep away quickly, lest the dwarf
reach for his blade . . . and yet, she couldn't miss this!
There was a flurry of movement; the thief whipped a slim dagger out of a
sheath at the back of his neck with his free hand, stabbing downward.
Ghondarrath jerked him coolly sideways, and he crashed helplessly forward onto
the table. Ghondarrath's free hand came down upon the back of the thiefs neck
with a solid crash, like a tree falling. "Dead?" asked one of the other
dalemen in a hoarse whisper. For a second more there was silence, and then
with a roar the Company of the Bright Spear was on their feet.
"Get him!"
"Sword the graybeard!"
*!┬г>*
ED GREENWOOD
"He's killed Lynxal!"
The dwarf nearly took Shandril's nose off as he kicked back his chair and
sprang to his feet, but Shandril jerked back just in time. Chairs overturned
and men shouted. Adventure, she thought ruefully as she scuttled on hands and
knees beneath the table, was upon her at last.
"They'll kill you, Ghondar!" said one of the old warriors, face white. Beside
him, Ghondarrath stood defiant, his chair raised before him in his hands. He
had no other weapon.
"I was never one to back down," he said roughly. "I know no other way. Better
to die by the blade, Tempus willing, than grow old shamed and craven."
"So be it, graybeard!" said one of the company's warriors viciously, striding
forward, blade out.
"Stop!" the old man bellowed with sudden force, startling all there. "If it's
to be a fight, then let us go outside. Gorstag's a good friend to us allтАФI'd
not see his house laid waste!"
"\bu should have thought of that a breath or two earlier;' sneered another
company member through the general laughter of his fellows. They surged
forward. Shandril reached her feet just as Gorstag and Korvan pounded past
her, the cook swearing, a cleaver in his hand. She turned in time to see two
blades flash in the firelight as, catlike, the two ladies Shandril had noticed
earlier leaped in front of the old man. One of those blades glowed and
shimmered with blue-white fire. A rumbling gasp of wonder shook the room
at the sight.
"I apologize to this house and to its master for drawing steel," said its
silver-haired owner in a clear, lilting voice. "But I will not see butchery
done by young fools with quick tempers. Put up your blades, company"тАФher voice
twisted that into a shaming quotation rather than rightful nameтАФ "or die, for
we shall surely slay you all."
"Or," her companion added pleasantly over the point of her own ready blade,
"this can be forgotten, and all keep peace. The thief was caught and drew
steel. The fault is his and his alone, and he has paid. That's an end to it."
With an oath, one of the adventurers plucked at his belt, meaning to snatch
and throw a dagger. The man grunted and then cried out in fury and
frustration, but his hand was
SPELLFIHE