"John Morressy - The game is a foot (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morressy John)

doused the knight with ale. After several minutes of frenzied activity and
wild shouts, with Buldram howling and cursing and the others crying, "Over
here! Get this spot! Harder, it's not out yet!" and beating at the flames with
zeal, Buldram finally managed to free himself from his cloak. It fell to the
floor, and the firefighters trampled it into a soggy mass while the knight
looked on, speechless, rubbing his broad backside. Kedrigern glanced at him,
let out a cry of alarm, and flung a mug of ale directly in his face.
"His beard! It's smoking!" he said, taking up another mug. "We must make sure
it's out."
"Enough of your help!" Buldram roared, throwing up his hands. "Buldram of the
Hard Hand needs no man's help."
Kedrigern looked at him with an expression of childlike innocence. "We
couldn't stand by idle while a servant of the king went up in flames, sir
knight."
"It would be disloyal," Rury said, and Kettry and Hilla nodded in agreement.
Two hard-faced men burst into the room, swords drawn. "Is all well, my lord?"
"Idiots! Where were you when your master was on fire?"
"We had to...the horses...the baggage...we were...," the first man started to
babble, but Buldram's fist knocked him to the floor. A second blow sent the
other one down before he could speak.
"I feel better now," said the knight. "Where is that landlord? I'll teach him
to run an inn with a faulty fireplace. I'll give him such a thrashing...."
Buldram's speech dissolved into a series of inarticulate growls accompanied by
a waving of fists. His dripping face was the color of an eggplant.
"He's preparing food for you. If you thrash him, you won't eat," said
Kedrigern.
After another growl and a hateful glare all around, Buldram said, "I'll thrash
him tomorrow, just before we leave. What are you all gawking at? I require
privacy. I'm on the king's business. Off with you! Go!"
Kedrigern was willing enough to turn in, but he disliked the manner of this
dismissal. For the general good, a man like Sir Buldram had to be taken down a
few notches. Servant of the king or not, he was an obnoxious lout and a public
nuisance. Aside from the enjoyable and entertaining interlude provided by
putting out the fire on his cloak, his arrival had spoiled a pleasant evening.
And who was he, anyway? In itself, the title "servant of the king" meant very
little. What king did he serve? In this corner of the world, kings were as
common as flies in a stable. Anyone who could gather a few score bullies and
skullcrackers called himself a king and set about terrorizing and plundering
those with a smaller band of brigands or none at all. The political situation
was completely out of hand, and people like Buldram were proliferating.
Someone had to do something. Buldram could not be permitted to take that
elderly couple's last possessions, or pummel the innkeeper, or commit any
other outrages. He needed a lesson. So did any king who employed such men.
While he pondered a course of action, Kedrigern smothered a great yawn. That
decided him. He was too weary to work a properly imaginative spell. A good
night's sleep, and he would come up with something suitable for Sir Buldram in
the morning, and add a delayed-action spell for him to bring back to his king.
That was the way to handle people of that sort. The process would take only a
small amount of magic, and it would be magic well spent.
With the question settled for the time being, he turned and started up the