"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 08 - A Time Of Justice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

'Not so loud! What other tavern in Caenmetyn is going to serve a pair of silver daggers? It's a fancy sort
of town, my love.'

Rhodry studied the crowd and scowled. Even in a black mood, when Rhodry was young (and he was
barely one and twenty that year) his elven blood was obvious to those who knew how to look; his face,
handsome all through his life, was so finely drawn in those days with a full mouth and deep-set eyes, that
it would have seemed girlish if it weren't for the nicks and scars from old fighting.

'Which way shall we ride tomorrow?' he said at last. 'I've got to find a hire soon.'

тАШTrue enough, because we're blasted low on coin. You should be able to find a caravan leaving here,
though.'

'Ah by the black hairy ass of the Lord of Hell! I'd rather find some lord with a feud going and ride a war.
I'm as sick as I can be of playing nursemaid to stinking merchants and their stinking mules! I'm a warrior
born and bred, not a wretched horseherd!'

'How can you be sick of it? You've only ever guarded one caravan in your life.'

When he scowled again, she let the subject drop.

Oddly enough, about an hour later someone offered Rhodry a very different type of hire. Jill was
keeping a watch on the door when she saw a man slip into the tavern room. All muffled in a grey cloak,
with the hood up against the chill of a spring night, he was stout and on the tallish side. When he
approached the table, the hood slipped, giving Jill a glimpse of blue eyes and a face handsome in a weak
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sort of way.

*I heard there was a silver dagger in town.' He spoke with a rolling Cerrmor accent. 'I might have a hire
for you, lad.'

'Indeed?' Rhodry gestured at the bench on the opposite side of the table. 'Sit down, good sir.'

He took the seat, then studied them both for a moment, his eyes flicking to Jill as if her standing while he
sat made him nervous. Since he was wearing striped brigga and an expensive linen shirt under the cloak,
she figured he might be a prosperous craftsman, perhaps a man who made incense for the temples,
judging by the scent that lingered around him. All at once, Jill's grey gnome popped into manifestation on
the table. He had his skinny arms crossed over his narrow chest, and his long-nosed face was set in a
disapproving glare for the stranger, who of course saw nothing. He leaned forward in a waff of Bardek
cinnamon.

'I have an enemy, you see,' he whispered. 'He's insulted me, mocked me, dared me to stop him, and he
knows blasted well that I've got no skill with a blade. I'll pay very high for proof of his death.'

'Oh indeed?' Rhodry's dark blue eyes flashed with rage. 'I'm no paid murderer. If you want to challenge