"Robin Hobb - Assassin 1 - Assassin' s Apprentice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hobb Robin)

through a wine-induced haze. His eyes went from the pup to me and back again,
and a sickened look spread across his face. He shook his head. Slowly he stood
and walked away from the table and the pup, favoring his damaged leg. In the
corner of the chamber there was a small rack, supporting an assortment of dusty
tools and objects. Slowly Burrich reached up and took one down. It was made of
wood and leather, stiff with disuse. He swung it, and the short leather lash
smacked smartly against his leg. "Know what this is, boy?" he asked gently, in a
kind voice.
I shook my head mutely.
"Dog whip."
I looked at him blankly. There was nothing in my experience or Nosy's to tell
me how to react to this. He must have seen my confusion. He smiled genially and
his voice remained friendly, but I sensed something hidden in his manner,
something waiting.
"It's a tool, Fitz. A teaching device. When you get a pup that won't
mind-when you say to a pup, `Come here,' and the pup refuses to come-well, a few
sharp lashes from this, and the pup learns to listen and obey the first time.
just a few sharp cuts is all it takes to make a pup learn to mind." He spoke
casually as he lowered the whip and let the short lash dance lightly over the
floor. Neither Nosy nor I could take our eyes off it, and when he suddenly
flipped the whole object at Nosy, the pup gave a yelp of terror and leaped back
from it, and then rushed to cower behind me.
And Burrich slowly sank down, covering his eyes as he folded himself onto a
bench by the fireplace. "Oh, Eda," he breathed, between a curse and a prayer. "I
guessed, I suspected, when I saw you running together like that, but damn El's
eyes, I didn't want to be right. I didn't want to be right. I've never hit a pup
with that damn thing in my life. Nosy had no reason to fear it. Not unless you'd


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been sharing minds with him."
Whatever the danger had been, I sensed that it had passed. I sank down to sit
beside Nosy, who crawled up into my lap and nosed at my face anxiously. I
quieted him, suggesting we wait and see what happened next. Boy and pup, we sat,
watching Burrich's stillness. When he finally raised his face, I was astounded
to see that he looked as if he had been crying. Like my mother, I remember
thinking, but oddly I cannot now recall an image of her weeping. Only of
Burrich's grieved face.
"Fitz. Boy. Come here," he said softly, and this time there was something in
his voice that could not be disobeyed. I rose and went to him, Nosy at my heels.
"No," he said to the pup, and pointed to a place by his boot, but me he lifted
onto the bench beside him.
"Fitz," he began, and then paused. He took a deep breath and started again.
"Fitz, this is wrong. It's bad, very bad, what you've been doing with this pup.
It's unnatural. It's worse than stealing or lying. It makes a man less than a
man. Do you understand me?"
I looked at him blankly. He sighed and tried again.
"Boy, you're of the royal blood. Bastard or not, you're Chivalry's own son,