"Modesitt, L E - Recluse 12 - The Wellspring of Chaos" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)had never let his grandsire forget what she regarded as the foolishness of the
glass. Foolishness? Kharl didnТt think so. He still got orders from passersby who otherwise hadnТt thought about barrels. Not many, never more than one an eightday, and sometimes only a few a season. Over time, though, the windows had paid for themselves. He picked up the lamp and walked toward the rear of the shop, past the high racks that held the billets he would form into staves. Most of the billets were oak, white for the tight cooperage and red for slack. There were also some billets of tight-grained black oak, and a few of chestnut. He passed the workbench and the tool rack, with every tool in place. On the left side of the rear wall was the small forge where he sized and shaped the hoops for tight cooperage. Beside the forge on the brick flooring was the fire pot and, beside it, the steaming ring. The faintest smell of ashes and charcoal drifted toward Kharl from the banked coals of the forge. Just short of the rear wall, and the door to the loading dock, the cooper stopped and looked at the fifteen white oak barrels waiting there. Each was identical to the next, with the iron bands, set just so, and the smooth finish, with a medium toasting on the inside. Korlan was supposed to pick them up in the morningЧpick them up and pay the balance due. The vintner had taken the first fifteen barrels an eightday earlier. Kharl only hoped that the vintner did not come up with some excuse, as he had the summer before, waiting almost two eightdays before showing up, but, then, that was the problem in dealing with someone who lived more than ten kays to the south of Brysta. Kharl half smiled, then nodded, and turned, the carry-lamp in hand, to head up УЕ silvers and coppers are not for me, but a pretty girl whose charms are freeЕФ He frowned. Had he heard singing in the alley? The Tankard was four doors toward the harbor, but seldom did roisterers come wandering down the alley, even early in the evening. Kharl cocked his head. УЕ for when thereТs no lamps to see, any womanТs as fair as fair can beЕФ УNoЕ let go of me!Ф The womanТs voiceЧno, it was a girlТs voiceЧwas familiar, but Kharl could not place it. He moved to the far side of the loading dock and swept up the cudgel in his left hand, then, leaving the lamp behind, eased the door open. УLet me go!Ф УЕ mean you no harm, little woman.Ф A raucous laugh followed. УWeТll even pay you for what you give others for freeЕФ УLet go! LetЕ mmmpphhhЕФ The girlТs words were choked off. Kharl closed the door behind him so that he would not be silhouetted by the light from the lamp. He glanced toward the Tankard, but saw no one. He looked back to the north. There, less than a rod away, perhaps less than ten cubits, in the fading light and the dimness of the alley, were three figures that Kharl could barely make out. Two men held the girl, a thin figure with dark ringlets over a green summer blouse. The hair and the blouse belonged to Sanyle, the youngest of TyrbelТs daughters. One of the men had SanyleТs arms cruelly twisted behind her, and the other had his hand on her shoulder, pulling the summer blouse down. Both men were laughing. Kharl took three quick steps, then two more, bringing the cudgel up. |
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