"Mercedes Lackey - Valdemar 03 - Take a Thief" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

dishwasher, and general dogsbody finally shuffle down the stairs from the loft where she slept into the
room, scratching head and buttocks at the same time without ever dislodging any of the vermin who
called her "home." Skif often wondered why so few people who ate here died. Perhaps it was only
because their stomachs were already full of the acidic potions his uncle sold as wine and beer, and once a
stomach was full of that rotgut, nothing that came in from the food lived long enough to cause sickness.
The kitchen door stood open to the cold courtyard; Kalchan came in that way every morning,
bringing the day's supplies. Uncle Londer never bought more of anything for the inn than he absolutely
had to. Now Skif braced himself to head outside into the cold.
Where 'ud it hurt if 'e bought for a week? Wouldn' 'e get it cheaper that way?
Skif ran out into the courtyard to unload the wagonтАФhired for the purpose by the candlemark,
together with a boy to drive it. The quicker Skif unloaded the thing, the less Uncle Londer would be
chargedтАФand if he didn't save Uncle Londer every possible pennybit, he'd learn about it when Kalchan's
fist connected with his head.
The boy stared at the ears of his donkey, studiously ignoring Skif, who was so much lower in the
social scale than he was. This boy had a coat, new boots, both clean.
Ah, stuck up! Skif thought, and stuck out his tongue at the unresponsive back.
First off, a half-sack of flour, followed by a tub of tallow grease thriftily saved from cookshops
where they skimmed off the grease from roasting and frying, and resold to those who could not afford
butter and candles. Maisie would be put to taking peeled rushes and dipping them in the melted grease to
make the tallow dips that served the tavern as lights, and the cook would use the same grease in baking
and on the bread.
Skif moved it carefully and set it down beside the flour; sometimes the stuff was still liquid
underneath, and he didn't dare spill it.
Then came a bucket of meat scraps, which would serve for the soup and meat pies.
I don' wanna know what that meat came from. Reckon it might meowтАж
Next, a peck of withered, spotty turnips, another of dried beans and peas that were past their best
and smelled of mold. Last of all, two barrels of beer and one of wine. Both represented the collected
dregs from barrels all over the city, collected last night from one of the large merchants who supplied
goods to other inns and taverns. Needless to say, this was the cheapest conceivable form of beverage; it
even cost less than the sweet spring water collected from outside Haven. It was so awful that Guild
cooks wouldn't even use the stuff in sauces; stale and loaded with sediment, it smelled sour even through
the wood of the barrel. Skif got the barrels off the wagon quickly, and the boy turned the wagon just as
quickly and sent his donkey trotting out into the street. Skif lugged the food into the kitchen where old
Moll, the cook, took charge of it all. Only she or Kalchan were allowed to touch the food and drink once
it came off the wagon.
Skif had no intention of touching any of it. He never ate hereтАФnot that Uncle Londer encouraged
him to.
He wasn't done yet; he had to bring in enough water from the courtyard pump to fill the half-barrel in
the kitchenтАФone bucket at a time. He stumbled on the rutted, frozen dirt of the courtyard; his boots,
stuffed with straw for extra warmth, were far too big for him. He didn't care; better too big than too
small.
Leastwise they don' pinch.
Now Skif went out into the common room to ready it for the first customers, lighting the fire there
with a brand from the kitchen fire, arranging bits of wood on either side of the hearth to dry, taking the
benches down off the tables, and the shutters off the windows. The oiled paper in the windows didn't do
a great deal to keep out the cold, but with snow in the street outside, there was some light getting in this
morning, so it was just as well that oiled paper hindered more than it helped in that direction. Skif would
never want to see what the common room looked like in the full light of the sun,
As horrible as the food and drink here in the Hollybush were, there were two customers waiting for
Skif to open the door. He knew them both by sight; two men who would down a minimum of six mugs of