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

they had soon refused to play with him. The game dissolved into
wrestling, with the biggest child, Morven's daughter Aret, on top.
Kerris went on. He had never been very good at wrestling.
"Hello, Recorder."
A girl stood at the foot of the tower stair, her arms filled
with laundry. She wore a red gown and a brown overtunic. Her cheeks
were pocked with little scars. Her hair fell down her back. Kerris
felt the nape of his neck redden. "Hello, Kili," he said.
Two years ago she had approached him in the hall, brushing her
breasts against him with a smile and a whispered question. "Would you
like to ...?" No one had asked him before. He went with her to the
laundry, clumsy and eager. They lay between the long wet washtubs, on
the dirty sheets from the apartments. He was deeply grateful to her.
Only one other person had ever touched him in that way. She had even
pretended to be pleased with his efforts. Some weeks afterward he
overheard her laughing about it with another girl, equating his lost
limb and his sexual ability.
She thrust her hip against him. "How come I don't see you
anymore?"
"I have work to do."
"That's too bad." She strolled across the ward, hips swaying.
The guards on the inner wall yipped appreciatively.
Kerris thought of Kel. He wondered where the chearas was, and
what had happened to the red-faced man. No doubt the chearis were
saddled and gone from the place. He could see them -- tall
Arillard, redheaded Riniard the newcomer, Jensie with the tri-colored
hair.... He swore under his breath and pushed the thoughts away. They
only made him unhappy.
He glanced across the courtyard. Kili had gone. The guards had
turned back to their vigil. Kerris pictured a caravan bumping along
the eastern road, blue flags flying, laden with silks and spices and
wood and metal goods. The whole Keep was restless, waiting for the
traders. The children played at caravans in their games.
He went up the spiral stair to the chamber at the tower's top.
The octagonal room was very old. It had been variously used:
for storage, for defense, even for a council chamber when there was
war in the north. It smelled of pine logs and ink. There were
tapestries on its walls like the ones in the hall. The room held a
clutter of furniture: two sleeping pallets, a big worktable, some
stools, Josen's chair, and six cedar chests. Two of the chests held
clothes. Four of them were brimful of old records.
A tall crock of _choba_ oil stood in one corner. The rest of
the Keep, even the lord's apartments, was lit by different kinds of
candles, and the merchants did not bother to bring the heavy oil with
them from the south. But Josen had ordered, and bought, on his own,
the one crock. On dark winter days he poured oil into dishes, and
fashioned wicks for them with wool yarn. He claimed the light from
the oil was clearer and less smoky than the light from animal-fat
candles. Kerris teased him with it, gently, in the evenings. "With
the lamps lit, you can pretend, like Paula, that you're not really