"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 06 - A Time Of Omens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

тАЬBecause itтАЩs not so easy on a lassтАЩs back, thatтАЩs why! First youтАЩve got to . . . тАЭ Here her words were
drowned by mutual giggling. тАЬAnd then I squeeze a bit, like. They call it coring apples. What do you
say?тАЭ

Judging from his snigger of laughter, he was agreeing to the extra expense. Branoic paced over to the
doorway and pulled back the blanket to look out, but there was no sign of Avra. As he was considering
leaving to find her, the couple next door began giggling and grunting in turn, as if whatever exotic trick she
was showing him took a great deal of coordinated effort to bring off properly. Branoic did make an effort
to do the honorable thing and ignore them, but he was, after all, only human, with the stock of curiosity
normal for that breed. He went back to the window, hesitated, then bent down to peer through the tiny
holes in the partition, which proved to be clogged with old filth.

тАЬOoooh, ye gods,тАЭ the wench next door snickered. тАЬWell, letтАЩs try again, shall we?тАЭ

Her piece of work agreed with a long bellow of laughter. Cursing his own curiosity, Branoic looked
around and discovered that the wickerwork stopped somewhat short of the ceiling about two feet above
his head, and that the windowsill stood about three feet off the floor. After one last attempt to ignore this
perfect confluence of circumstance, he gave in and hauled himself up to totter on the sill and look over the
top of the partition. Unfortunately heтАЩd forgotten that heтАЩd been drinking ale for hours on a hot night, and
the effort made his head lurch and swim. Without thinking he grabbed at the flimsy wickerwork to steady
himself. It buckled, he grabbed harder, the couple beyond yelped and swore, and his foot slipped on the
mucky sill. With a yell of his own that was half a warning Branoic pitched forward, all fifteen stone of him,
and crashed into the partition. In a tangle of broken wicker he swooped down and landed on the
half-naked pair.

Shrieking and screaming, the woman writhed around and got free just as the next partition over went
down from the impact, and knocked the one beyond it, too, into the one beyondтАФand so on all along
the round room. Stammering out a stream of apologies of some sortтАФhe never could remember exactly
what he said тАФBranoic rolled over and staggered to his feet just as the fellow jumped up, pulling up his
brigga and struggling to belt them, a big burly man and too furious to swear. The blazons on his shirt
showed him to be a member of the Black Sword troop.

тАЬWho are youтАФa cursed silver dagger! IтАЩll have your ugly head for this, you young cub!тАЭ

тАЬI didnтАЩt meanтАФmy apologiesтАФтАЭ Branoic was gulping for air out of shame, not fear.

Although the fellow started to draw his sword, his brigga slid down to his knees and forced a brief
moment of peace as he swore and fumbled round for his belt. Just to be on the safe side, Branoic
reached for his own hilt and was rewarded with another bellow of rage. The lass started screaming just
as Aethan came plowing into what was left of the doorway.

тАЬPut that sword away, Branoic you asshole, and come with me!тАЭ
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The fellow was so stunned that he merely stood there, hiking his brigga, as Aethan shoved Branoic
bodily ahead of him, down the collapsed corridor. Judging by the shrieking and writhing under the pile of