"Karen Haber - Thieves' Carnival" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haber Karen)

"Good time," he said. "Second prize for sure.
"Second prize!" Mouse cried. "Who won first?"
"Vandor and Istral," the graybeard said. "They were first to return. With the
Magistrate-General's toe ring." Mouse gnashed her teeth in fury. Vandor and that
red-haired wench were lolling on the stairs, sharing a globe of dream wine. As they
drank from its twin spouts, their eyes were locked in blissful reverie. Mouse looked
away.
"Tough luck," Ciaran said. "But we've got the Cube. It's worth a fortune. We'll sell
it and split the proceeds." She rounded on him. "Is that all that you can think about?
Money for your new harp? Well, minstrel, why don't you go steal yourself a new
harp! I told you, the Cube goes to the Thieves' Treasury. Gray Tom is taking it there
now." She turned her back to him. Ciaran moved close, put his hands on her
shoulders and his lips to her ear.
"Mousie, do you really want to give that fine prize over to the Thieves' Treasury?
After what you've gone through to claim it? The fat old fools who administer that
hoard will just sit on it anyway."
"Don't call me Mousie." In disgust, she shook him off and moved away.
The harpist followed, and pulled her tightly against him, until she could feel the heat
from his body all along her back.
"You're the best thief in the Quarter, and you know it," he said. "Why are you
cheating yourself?"
"I'm not cheating myself," Mouse said, but her tone wavered. Ciaran's breath
tickled her ear as he spoke.
"Of course you are. The fabled Portal Cube, and you snatched it like a child's toy,
right out from under those Cators' long noses. You deserve more than just second
prize for this feat. All along the Quarter, they'll be spinning tales half the night of how
Mouse the Master Thief stole the Portal Cube."
He paused. Mouse leaned back against him now, thinking how pleasant his voice
sounded.
"And then," Ciaran said, "they'll speak of how Mouse meekly handed the Portal
Cube to Gray Tom. And they'll laugh." His voice was a soft whisper. "Do you want
them to laugh at you?"
"No!" Mouse burst out. "I deserved first prize!" The harpist nodded. "Then why
not steal the Cube back from the Treasury and get yourself the best prize of all: top
value for a legendary relic?" Mouse spun around and grabbed Ciaran's hand.
"I'll do it." It was easier than she expected.

Gray Tom had piled the plunder in a temporary hold by the old clock. Big Lashio
had been set to guard it. But Lashio was known to be overfond of dream wine.
Mouse sent Ciaran scrambling for a pitcher of the stuff. In moments, he returned,
having purloined one from the feasting tent. She hoisted the jug on her hip and
ambled toward the guard.
"Ho, Lashio," she greeted the big Weirder. "What's it like to sit, a brood hen, upon
a precious hoard?"
"Little Mouse," he said, showing a mouthful of jagged teeth. His one eye blinked
rapidly. "I'd as soon the loot hatched quickly. I've a dry throat. What's that you've
got with you?"
"Dream wine," Mouse said. "For the feast." Lashio's thick dark features convulsed.
"For the feast? Have pity on me, tiny one. Spare a glass for poor Lashio. Spare
two." Mouse pretended to consider his request.