"Juliet E. McKenna - Einarinn 1 - The Thief's Gamble" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKenna Juliet E)

changed clothes rapidly, swapping homespun and leather for good
broadcloth breeches and tunic, boots, gloves and hooded jerkin, all in
charcoal grey. Black gives hard edges which can catch the eye even in the
darkest night. The rough wooden beams of the inn made leaving through the
window simplicity itself, as long as I took care not to mark the intervening
plaster. I was soon jogging through the woods fringing the road to Hawtree.
It was cold and wet but the prospect of a little adventure warmed me. I
did not do much thieving in those days. The difficulties of fencing goods in
a strange place are formidable and while weighting the runes in a game of
chance can get you flogged, getting caught stealing from a noble's house
gets you the pillory at best and loses you a hand at worst. Unfortunately,
only nobles have anything worth stealing. You may wonder why I was
chancing it this time, but I happened to know this particular noble was not
going to be at home, which did rather weight the odds in my favour.
Raeponin's devotees can talk all they want about balance and justice and
levelling the scales, but you won't ever find me making offerings at his
shrine. After all, I gamble for a living, not for fun.
I had sat on my horse under a dripping oak tree earlier that week watching
the gentleman and his entourage heading north with enough luggage to
indicate a lengthy stay in another place. I would have recognised him
anywhere, even after ten years. You do not easily forget the face of a man
who has tried to beat and rape you.
Hawtree was not far and I covered the distance easily; staying fit is
essential in my kind of life. I breathed in the damp green scent of the night
happily. I love being out in the country at night, for all that the sun rules my
birth-runes. It must be my father's blood coming through, despite my city
upbringing. The village was mostly dark and a few of the wooden houses
showed dim lights, but this was farming country and most folk here slept
and rose with the sun. The larger brick and flint buildings round the market
square showed more signs of life despite the fact it was now past midnight,
so I ducked into an alley and waited to catch my breath. I walked noiselessly
through the dark lanes, keeping an eye out for dogs who might advertise my
presence.
The house was just off a garden square, a favourable position for a
wealthy landowner's residence. The tall front showed heavy oak shutters
barred with iron and a stout door with an expensive lock; this did not bother
me as I worked my way round to the alley at the back. I found a dark corner
and studied the kitchen and outbuildings round the yard. My mother said I
was the most useless maid she had ever known but my years as a
housekeeper's daughter had given me invaluable knowledge about the
domestic arrangements of large houses. A scullery maid would be trying to
sleep in the meagre warmth of the dying kitchen range while her more
fortunate seniors would have chilled and cramped quarters in the garrets.
The cook and chamberlain would have the better rooms overlooking the
yard. I couldn't tell how many servants the bastard had taken with him so I
had better avoid any of those areas. The room I wanted was towards the
front of the house on the ground floor so ideally I needed to get in through a
first-floor window. I studied them in the fitful moonlight and blessed the
keen night-sight that my father had granted me. It did not look promising but
I was reluctant to give up; I wanted the money this would provide and the