"Tamora Pierce - Protector Of The Small 3 - Squire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pierce Tamora)

"Not around me or the lads, they haven't," was the growled reply. "We've explained it's nobody's
business."
"Then explain the same thing about Kel and me, Flyn," Raoul said. "That's easy enough."
Flyn - she knew the name. Of course: Flyndan Whiteford, nominally in command of Third Company in
the King's Own, in reality second in command to Lord Raoul, who personally led it whenever possible.
Kel had met Flyn three summers ago, during the spidren hunt at the end of her first year as a page.
"Stop joking, Raoul," Flyndan replied. "I've served with you for fifteen years. I've a right to be heard."
Raoul sighed. "You know I listen to you."
"Then be serious. The girl will have no reputation, and neither will you. The conservatives will be
furious you picked her."
"So?" Raoul asked. "They dislike me anyway, just for the changes I've made in the Own. How much
more can they hate me because Kel's my squire? And she's had four years to think about her reputation."
"She's fourteen - she can't understand all the consequences," Flyndan grumbled. "As a noble she
wouldn't be thinking about marriage and babies for another couple of years."
Raoul continued, still patient. "But as a commoner she might be married - and producing babies - right
now. Stop fussing. She's intelligent, and she's steady. Some people always believe the worst."
"You only did it because Lady Alanna asked you to," snapped Flyndan.
Kel swallowed a gasp. Now she was really glad they didn't know she was listening. She shouldn't be.
It wasn't right. Educational, but not right.
There was a sigh in the next room. "Alanna mentioned it, but I've had Kel in mind since the spidren
hunt. Everything I've heard just confirms that she'll do well, given a chance. That's what I'd like you to do,
Flyn - give her a chance."
Kel knew she had to leave or say she was there. Cat-quiet, she went to her door, then yanked it
loudly shut. She walked into the center of the room, saying, "Your food and water dishes are here - "
 A man poked his head through the connecting door. He was in his early forties, blunt nosed, with the
dark skin, hair, and eyes of a Bazhir. He wore a white cotton shirt and loose dark green breeches, casual
dress. "Good afternoon, Squire Keladry. Do you remember me?"
Kel smiled at the Bazhir. "It's Qasim, isn't it? You fed my birds on the spidren hunt." He'd been paired
with her that day and had treated her just as he had the male pages. That, and the fact that he liked her
sparrows, made him a friend in Kel's eyes.
"Have you still the little ones?" he asked.
"Some. The flock got too big for me to keep them all." Kel's new flock left their dishes and flew to
Qasim, fluttering around him. "They remember you," she said.
He reached into a pocket and withdrew a handful of dried cherries. "I hoped they would," he admitted
with a smile. The birds grabbed the treats. "Come." He led Kel into Raoul's quarters.
The Knight Commander occupied a suite of rooms. The one connected to Kel's was a study,
complete with a desk, a number of chairs, and full bookcases. Maps of Tortall and its neighbors were
mounted on three walls. Beyond the study was a dining room of sorts, though the table was covered with
armor and weapons. From her tour that morning Kel knew Raoul's bedroom was on the other side, with
its dressing room and privy.
Raoul sat at his desk, stacks of paper and books spread around him. He grinned at Kel. "I see you
remember Qasim ibn Zirhud. He's a corporal now, in Volorin's squad. I don't think you were properly
introduced to Flyn, though - Captain Flyndan Whiteford."
The man who sat in a chair opposite Raoul nodded curtly. He was stocky and fair skinned, his
red-brown hair cropped short on the sides and left tightly curled on top. His brown eyes were set under
thin brows, over a small nose and small lips. His voice, a light baritone, carried a hint of a northern burr,
all but erased by years with the King's Own.
"This isn't a menagerie," Flyndan objected as Jump and the birds explored the study.
"The sparrows carry their own weight, Flyn," said Raoul. "Or did you forget, they led us to the spidren
nest?" He reached down to pet Jump. "Her gelding's a piece of work, too." To Kel he said, "I'm glad you