"Elizabeth Lynn - Chronicles of Tornor 2 - The Dancers of Arun" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lynn Elizabeth A)

over a cutting board, slicing chunks of cold ham onto a silver
platter. Paula stood beside the fireplace, holding out her hands to
the blaze. Kerris went to her. Bending, he kissed the top of her
head. "Good morning."
She peered up at him. He was a head taller than she was. She
was wearing a thick brown shawl around her shoulders. "Kerris," she
said. She turned back to the pot. It held tea, honey, and milk in a
great soup mixture. "Have some tea."
He looked through rows of tall glasses for a mug. "Cold this
morning," he said.
"Cold every damn morning." She banged the ladle on the rim of
the iron pot. "You'd never know it was spring."
Leaning by her, Kerris dunked the mug into the pot. He sipped
the tea. It was hot and very sweet. "It's nearly summer," he said.
"The traders'll be here soon."
Her dark eyes glinted. She made a barracks gesture. "Summer,"
she said, with a southerner's contempt for northern weather. "Those
people upstairs awake yet?"
She meant the soldiers. She had been a soldier herself once,
long ago, on the southern border. Kerris shook his head. "Just me."
A fair-haired kitchenmaid in a long linen skirt came from the
storeroom. She was carrying a round of cheese. She smiled politely at
Paula and with more warmth at the young cook. His hands at the board
moved even faster. She did not look at Kerris. He had not expected
her to. For all that he was of Tornor's ruling line, he was a scribe,
a fit-taker, and a cripple, less important to the Keep than the least
of its cooks.
Paula scowled. "You want more tea?" she said.
He wanted to tell her that it did not matter to him that the
woman of the Keep ignored him. He was used to it. He preferred it to
the ridicule he might have gotten -- had gotten, more than once. To
please her, he dipped his mug again in the amber syrup. An apprentice
opened an oven door. The smell of baking bread filled the room.
The leather curtain flapped. The chief cook strutted in. He
had great hairy arms like a smith, and no hair at all on his skull.
The scullions (behind his back) called him the Egg. He was a superb
cook and had a temper like a fox-bitch in heat, and he hated
intruders in his kitchen. He glared at Kerris. "Out," he said,
fingering his square-bladed cleaver. The gesture was for show, but
Kerris had no intention of challenging it. He rubbed Paula's
shoulder.
"I'll see you later," he said. He turned to go.
_There was smoke in his eyes and a knife in his hand. He
smelled scorched food and the heavy scent of new wine. He thought_,
End it quickly. _He faked a stumble on a stool. His opponent grinned
and stepped in for a killing thrust. Catching the thrusting arm, he
looped the man's neck with his other arm and drew him helpless to the
floor. A knife clattered down. Disdainfully a booted foot kicked it
away. A woman screamed softly_.
_He stared into the man's red and terrified face. "I could