"Barb & J. C. Hendee - Noble Dead 03 - Sister of the Dead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hendee JC & Barb)

cracked open, and a squat woman with graying hair peered out. She took in Welstiel's wool cloak and
opened the entry a little farther.

"Didn't expect no one after dark tonight, " she said in a muffled voice, and she frowned at the fine
patrons upon her doorstep. "Got a room, but it ain't been cleaned. "

Chane stepped closer. It was unlikely a room should remain uncleaned all day in an establishment this
small. He caught the scent of cheap liquor beneath stale sweat on the woman's skin. Not expecting
further business, she'd probably taken her payment from Magiere, purchased a jug for herself, and spent
the afternoon drinking. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"We are not seeking lodging, " Welstiel said politely. "We arranged to meet friends here but were
delayed and have become separated. She is a tall, young woman with black hair traveling with a
blond-haired man and a dog. Did they stay here?"

The innkeeper's brow creased over bloodshot eyes, and Chane realized she wasn't as witless or drunk
as she first appeared. Her faded brown dress was stained but not dirty, and while wisps of graying hair
escaped her braid, it was still reasonably well bound. She glanced at Chane.

"You gentlemen are friends of that rough womanтАФand mat half-blood? He didn't fool me none with the
scarf. I saw his eyes. "

Welstiel's calm expression never faltered as he held out a silver shil, far more than a night's lodging would
cost in a place like this.

"Could we see the room? Perhaps they left a hint as to where they were going. "

The woman's eyes widened for an instant. She grunted, taking the coin, and reached back inside for a
lantern. "This way. "

She led them along a narrow side hall. Chane followed behind, wondering what Welstiel expected to
learn from an unmade bed or a full chamber pot. The old woman opened a lone side door in the hall. The
bed indeed was unmade, and the room was bare from what Chane could see as Welstiel and the old
woman stepped in ahead of him. Chane heard the pulse beating beneath the innkeeper's flesh in the dim
room.

In Bela, he'd often hunted in the poor sectors for concealment. If sustenance was all that time allowed,
he was not choosy about slovenly or inebriated prey. He stepped through the doorway and closer, as the
old woman followed Welstiel, and he reached for the sagging scruff of her neck.

Welstiel turned, surveying the room by the woman's lantern light, and his gaze stopped on Chane. He
slowly shook his head once.

Chane willed his hand down to his side. A flash of anger passed through him, growing upon the
smoldering hunger. The innkeeper, as if suddenly aware she was alone with two strange men, turned to
look at him.
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