"Jody Lynn Nye - Defender of the Small" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nye Jody Lynn)

"Did you burn their boats? Did you meet the king? Did you find bags of gold?" Now that she had proved
friendly, questions bubbled up out of the children like steam in a stewpot.


file:///H|/eMule/Incoming/Nye,%20Jody%20Lynn%20-%20Defender%20of%20the%20Small%20(htm).htm (2 of 10)15-8-2005 0:32:29
 - Chapter 22

"Perhaps I'll tell you a tale or two later. I just want a rest now," Dawna said, with a smile. She turned
back to the butcher, who was hacking a slab of meat into collops. "Where's a good place to get a meal
and a bed for the night?"
The man stuck the tip of his carving knife into the chopping block and consulted the sky. "Oh, well,
there's Brenner's tavern, or Mistress Peck's . . ."
The biggest of the boys, bored by such ordinary talk, picked up a stone and heaved it at the orange cat. It
struck her in the side. She let out a cry and skittered underneath the weaver's table, next to the butcher.
"Stop that," Dawna ordered. The boys paid no attention. They picked up more stones and continued to
pelt the cat, who mewed piteously, trying to find a place to hide. "For Gods' love, what's the matter with
you? Whose children are those?" she asked the tradesfolk.
"Just children," the butcher replied, with a shrug. "Just a cat. What do you care?"
"It's wrong," Dawna exclaimed angrily. "Cats are the Gods' creatures, the same as we are."
The man blew a derisive raspberry. Dawna felt her temper flaring. Those brats were hurting an innocent
animal, and he didn't intend to do a thing about it. After all the killing she had seen, senseless cruelty
fired her blood.
"Mind that for me," she said, thrusting her pack into the butcher's arms. She drew her sword and stuck it,
point quivering, into the nearest tree. No need for it in what she intended to do.
As she turned the children instantly divined her intention. They dropped the rest of their stones and fled
down the street towards the river. A coracle lay on the churned-up mud bank. No doubt they intended to
make their escape in it, leaving the woman unable to follow them in her heavy leather-and-bronze
armor. They had the advantage of lightness, but her temper lent speed to her feet. With a surge of
strength she hurtled down the hill, angling to come up in front of the largest boy, the initial stone-
thrower.
"Now we'll see how much you enjoy a thrashing," she said, grabbing him by the arm. She sat down on
the coracle's edge and swung him over her knee. "That's for assaulting a poor innocent beast. And that's
for harming a mother. And that's for not listening to your elders." Her open hand smacked down hard on
his upturned backside again and again.
The other children fled as soon as their leader had been captured. By the time Dawna marched her
captive up the hill, a crowd had gathered.
"What the hell do you think you're doing to our children?" demanded the weaver.
"They needed a lesson," Dawna stated, thrusting the boy toward the crowd. He immediately ran to a
prosperous-looking man whose sandy-blond locks suggested to her that he was the boy's father. "Cruelty
to animals is a sin." The gray cat had been awakened from his nap by the shouting. He wound around the
legs of the crowd. The weaver distractedly aimed a kick at it when it brushed against him.
"Get away with you," he growled.
Dawna turned on him. "You're no better! Children learn from their elders. You should teach them
kindness. These animals are your friends and protectors."
"Oh, please," the weaver groaned, rolling his eyes. "Don't spout your animist noises at me. The Father
put all creatures under the command of humans. If He wishes us saved from plague, He will be the one
to save us, not some dumb animal." From the sound of the grumbling, the rest of the crowd agreed with
him.