"Robert Jordan - Ravens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

the honeycakes filled her nose more than all the rest. Every
woman who cooked would have done her very best for the
shearing. As she made her way down the tables, she offered
water to the women setting out food, but they just smiled at her
and shook their heads. She kept on, though, and not just because
of the smells. They had tea water boiling on fires behind the
tables, but some of them might want cool water from the river.
Well, not so cool, now, but still . . . .
 Ahead of her Kenley was slouching along beside the tables,
no longer trying for every inch of height. If anything, he seemed
to be trying for shorter. He still carried his bucket in one hand,
but from the way it swung, it must have been empty, so he could
not be offering water to anyone. Egwene frowned. Furtive was
the only word to describe him. Now, what was he . . . ? Abruptly
his hand darted out and snatched a honeycake from the table.

Egwene's mouth fell open indignantly. And he had the nerve
to talk to her about children? He was as bad as Ewin Finngar!

Before Kenley could take a second step, Mistress Ayellin
descended on him like a stooping falcon, seizing his ear with one
hand and the honeycake with the other.

They were her honeycakes. A slim woman with a thick gray
braid that hung below her hips, Corin Ayellin baked the best
sweets in Emond's Field. Except for mother, Egwene added
loyally. But even her mother said Mistress Ayellin was better.
With sweets, anyway. Mistress Ayellin handed out crusty cakes
and slices of pie with a free hand, so long as it was not near
mealtime or your mother had not asked her not to, but she could
deal heavily with boys who tried to filch behind her back. Or with
anyone else.

Stealing, she called it, and Mistress Ayellin did not abide
stealing. She still had Kenley by his ear and was shaking a finger
at him, talking in a low voice. Kenley's face was all twisted up as
if he was about cry, and he shrank in on himself till he appeared
shorter than Egwene. She gave a satisfied nod. She did not think
he would try to give orders to anyone any time soon.

She moved further from the tables as she walked on by
Mistress Ayellin and Kenley, so no one would suspect her of
trying to filch sweets. The thought had never entered her head.
Not really, anyway, not so it counted.

Suddenly she leaned forward, peering between the people
moving back and forth in front of her. Yes. That was Perrin
Aybara, a stocky boy taller than most his age.

And he was a friend of Rand. She darted through the crowd