"Anne Logston - Shadow 01 - Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Logston Anne)

metalsmith who dealt in finely crafted work. She inspected several
different pieces while the proprietor, an unhappy-looking young elf,
attended an irate human at the other end of the open-air booth. The elf
was obviously distracted, and Shadow was sorely tempted to simply
pocket her choices, but she restrained herself reluctantly; a metalsmith
who made good thieves' tools was likely affiliated with the local Guild and
under its protection. Finally the proprietor turned to her. His eyes
brightened as he recognized a fellow elf, then widened as he noticed the
large coil of Shadow's braids.

"Well! Fair morn, Matriarch," he said warmly. "How can I help you this
fine, sunny day?"

"I'd like this set of tools," Shadow told him, "and these knives." She
deposited the small leather packet and large stack of weapons into the
surprised elf's hands. "How much for the lot?"

He quickly regained his composure and scribbled figures on a scrap of
parchment.

"Twenty-two Suns, six Moons for all. Matriarch."

"Let me see that paper." Shadow quickly scanned the figures. "Come
now, for such a large purchase, surely you can give me a better price than
this. I'll give you fourteen Suns for the lot."

The elf grinned. "Ah, I'd sell them to my own mother for twenty Suns,
Matriarch, but for you I'll beggar myself and give them away for nineteen."

"If you overcharged your mother that much she'd disown you, and I
wouldn't blame her," Shadow told him. "Fifteen Suns."

The merchant opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak,
another voice interrupted.

"So this undersized elf fancies herself a fine warrior, eh?"

Shadow started at the voice, then turned to look at the newcomer. She
found herself facing a tall, well-muscled human woman clad in leather
warrior's garb, her eyes as black as Shadow's own, her dark brown hair
confined in a single braid down her back.

"It's a sad day when humans dare to speak so insolently to their
betters," Shadow returned tartly. "And sadder yet when they dare to
interrupt an elf's bargain."

"Lady DonyaтАФ" the merchant began fearfully.

"Bargain, hah!" the woman interrupted again. "You couldn't bargain a
sand flea into the desert. You want a bargain? Try this, then: match me in