"Richard A. Knaak - Dragonlance - Lost Histories 4 - Land of the Minotaurs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Knaak Richard A)

nothing much changed. The past few emperors, including the ones Hecar's father could recall, seemed
interchangeably alike.

By the time we're finally ready to conquer the other races, he thought in some bitterness, the Last Day
will have come and gone. We'll be masters of nothing.

From the distant, circular edifice came another roar of approval. There was a good match going on
today, for which Hecar was grateful. That meant that a great many minotaurs he had no desire to see just
yet would be at the circus, cheering and betting on the possible demise of their fellows. The traveler
could go about his business and, with any luck, be gone from Nethosak before nightfall. Hecar did not
want to stay even one night in the imperial capital. Simply setting foot in the city after three years of self-
imposed exile was enough to make him realize how little he missed the politics and folly, both often
intertwined in Nethosak, and how true had been the words of his sister Helati's mate, who had spoken to
him just before his departure two weeks earlier. He had been warned that, having tasted freedom, neither
he nor the other minotaurs living in the small settlement to the south would ever feel comfortable
visiting the great city again. Hecar had laughed, recalling good memories, but those had paled even
before the Minotaur had reached the city gates.

What is it, though? Why do I feel so ill at ease?

The gully dwarf suddenly hustled to a spot just in front of him, the creature's gaze riveted by a small
piece of refuse. The squat, ugly little figure, a male, snatched it up as if it were gold, then glanced up at
the looming minotaur. "Galump make clean, Master! Galump make clean!" There was such fear in the
gully dwarf's face that Hecar, taken aback, could think of nothing to say. Galump took the silence for
approval and rushed off to snare another bit of garbage. Rather than laugh at the dwarf's desperation,
something he might well have done long ago, Hecar felt disgusted. There was something dishonorable,
he believed, about mistreating such a weak and helpless race. The gully dwarves were pathetic, but did
that make the minotaurs admirable simply because they could dominate the simple creatures and force
them to do such menial tasks?

It's because we've failed to conquer any other folk, Hecar thought. There, in the form of an ugly, weak
thing with the mind of an infant, stands the sum total of our national ambition for conquest.

The gully dwarf was not even a slave actually taken in war, Galump's people had no real home, not even
much in the way of leadership or combat skills. Hecar could picture in his mind what had probably
happened. Someone had likely spotted one of the tribes wandering through the hills and sent a small
force to round them up with nets. Catching a gully dwarf was easier than catching a legless rabbit. They
generally froze in terror at the sight of a minotaur on horseback.

It was amazing that someone had managed to teach them how to pick up trash in so careful and thorough


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a manner. Hecar suspected that the gully dwarf's training had included torture of some sort.

With great effort, he tore himself from the familiar area he had so often frequented and headed deeper
into the city. The streets were wide and the buildings tall, something that made him feel uncomfortable
after so long in the woodlands. Hecar already found himself longing for the soft earth beneath his feet