"Mercedes Lackey - Mage Winds 1 - Winds Of Fate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

that-by wearing the same kind of dark gray leathers the Weaponsmaster
favored. And the Queen smiled and held her peace. Like Alberich, Kerowyn
was a law unto herself.

"Besides, you have all the resources of the armory at your disposal,"
Kerowyn said over her shoulder, as she hefted another corselet in need
of repair-this one of metal scale, a mending task Elspeth didn't even
want to think about. "You wouldn't have that in the field. Be grateful I
don't demand that you fix it with what folks carry in their field kits."
Elspeth bit back a retort and spread the shirt out over the bench she
was sitting on, giving the armor the kind of careful scrutiny she
imagined Kero must have.

Well, it isn't as bad as I thought, she decided, after a second
examination proved that some of the worst places had already been
repaired.

Evidently the Captain had taken that much pity on her ... She bent to
her task, determined to make as good a job of it as Kerowyn would.

Her determination did not last more than a few moments.

Someone distracted her as soon as she turned her attention to a tricky
bit of stitchery that had to be picked out without ruining the leather.
A whisper of air was all that warned her of the attacker's rush-but that
was all the warning she needed. What Weaponsmaster Alberich had not
pounded into her, the Herald Captain was making certain she learned, and
in quick-time, too. And Kerowyn was a past master of the unconventional.

Gwena!. she screamed mentally, as she acted on what had become reflex.
She tumbled off her bench, hit the hard wooden floor with her shoulder,
and rolled. She came up on the balls of her feet, poised and ready, the
tiny knife she'd been using to cut the stitches still in her hand. Her
heart pounded, but from battle-readiness, not fear.

She found herself facing someone who had recovered just as rapidly as
she had; he stood in a near-identical pose on the opposite side of the
bench, and she sized him up quickly. Taller and heavier than she, an
anonymous male, in nondescript clothing, his face wrapped in a scarf and
head covered with a tight hood, so that all she could see were his wary
eyes.

A thousand fleeting thoughts passed through her mind in that moment of
analysis. Uppermost was a second mental scream for help to her Companion
Gwena. Hard on the heels of that was the sudden question: Why doesn't
Kero do anything? She glanced out of the corner of her eye. The Captain
stood with arms crossed, watching both of them, no discernible
expression on her handsome face.

The obvious answer was implied by the question. Because she was