"Dan Parkinson - Dragonlance Tales 3 - Love and War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Parkinson Dan)

for the Forest of Wayreth. Perhaps if you had seen those
Entwining Trees yourself, it would lend credibility - "
With some effort, Barryn Warrex stooped and lifted his
heavy, dull shield. "My friend, all I know is that I, too, once
had a beautiful daughter, and that one day, she, too, reached
marriageable age. I behaved no better than this Aron
Dewweb."
"Oh - I'm so sorry," said Aril Witherwind awkwardly,
not sure how to respond to such a confession. "Uh, I myself
have never had children - "
The old knight slung the shield across his back, and he
became as stooped under its weight as Aril was under his
tome. Even as he spoke, Barryn Warrex started off down
into the grassy, flower-dotted valley, where butterflies
flitted about him as if to cheer him up. "It is many years
since my own daughter ran away with her lover."
Aril remained perched on his rock, and, trying to hear
the retreating knight, he started a new page and began
scribbling once more in his book.
"Now this old knight has but one last mission in his
life," said Warrex, walking ever farther off, his voice
growing fainter, "and that is to find my daughter and this
husband of hers - "
" - and," murmured Aril, repeating the knight's words
exactly as he wrote them down, " - give - them - my -
blessing."

A Painter's Vision

Barbara Siegel and Scott Siegel

"It looks so real," said Curly Kyra with awe. She
brushed long ringlets of black hair away from her eyes and
stared at the painting, ignoring calls from down the bar for
another round of ale. "It's a beautiful boat." Softly, with
wonder in her voice, she added, "It seems as if it could
almost sail right off the canvas."
"Almost, but not quite," replied Sad-Eye Seron, the
painter. He was a skinny man with a gentle face. His
eyebrows drooped at the edges, giving him the perpetually
sad expression that had earned him his nickname. But he
smiled now, enjoying the effect his new painting was
having on the lovely, young barmaid he had courted all
summer long.
"Will it make a lot of money?" asked Kyra hopefully.
Seron's smile vanished. "I sometimes think that you're
the only one who likes my work. Everybody else in Flotsam
says, 'Why buy pictures of things that I can see whenever I
look out my window?' "
"Hey, Kyra," bellowed a patron with an empty mug.