"Robin McKinley - The Outlaws of Sherwood" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinley Robin) The Outlaws of Sherwood
Robin McKinley A 3S digital back-up edition 1.0 click for scan notes and proofing history Contents |1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12|13|14|15|16|17|18|19|20|21|22|23|24| 25| This Ace book contains the complete text of the original hardcover edition. It has been completely reset in a typeface designed for easy reading and was printed from new film. THE OUTLAWS OF SHERWOOD An Ace Book / published by arrangement with Greenwillow Books PRINTING HISTORY Greenwillow Books edition published 1988 Ace edition / August All rights reserved. Copyright ┬й 1988 by Robin McKinley. Cover art by Darrell Sweet. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information address: Greenwillow Books, a division of William Morrow & Company, Inc., Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016. Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016. The name тАЬAceтАЭ and the тАЬAтАЭ logo are trademarks belonging to Charter Communications, Inc. Printed In The United States Of America To Merrilee, who saved it; and to R. W., who saved me CHAPTER ONE ^┬╗ A small vagrant breeze came from nowhere and barely flicked the feather tips as the arrow sped on its way. It shivered in its flight, and fell, a little off courseтАФjust enough that the arrow missed the slender tree it was aimed at, and struck tiredly and low into the bole of another tree, twenty paces beyond the mark. Robin sighed and dropped his bow. There were some people, he thought, who not only could shoot accuratelyтАФif the breeze hadnтАЩt disturbed it, that last arrow would have flown trueтАФbut seemed to know when and where to expect small vagrant breezes, and to allow for them. He was not a bad archer, but his father had been a splendid one, and he was his fatherтАЩs only child. His father had taught him to shoot; he had also taught him to make and fletch his own arrows. Robin stooped to pull the treacherous arrow out of the ash it had chosen to fly at, and ran his fingers gently over the shaft. It was undamaged, he was relieved to see; he had a living to earn, and little time to spend making his own arrows. Mostly he sold the ones he found time to make; he had some slight local |
|
|