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

Raoul thrust his hands into his pockets, still the picture of goodwill. "You forget our customs, Chief
Graystreak. Offer all the horses you like, human females are not for sale. And you can't have heard - I
said she is a squire. A knight-in-training. She's busy. Now, explain to me how you are not at fault for
this." He jerked his head toward the ruins of the village.
Graystreak spread his hands as his expression slid from greedy to innocent. "These young stallions give
me no peace," he whined. "I cast them from the herd. Some females were silly enough to follow them.
They are no longer my problem."
"You never thought they'd turn on us?" demanded the headman. "Centaur females leave males who
can't give them gifts. If you kicked young bucks out with nothing, how were they to get presents if they
didn't steal?"
Graystreak looked shocked. "I assumed their two-legger friends would warn Haresfield, since they live
here. Had I known this would happen, of course I would have given warning. I prize the goodwill I have
built up." He looked at Kel again and sighed before turning to Raoul. "Since I know nothing more, I take
myself off. I'm sure you will catch these brigands." He shook his head woefully. "There will be no trade
for us here for some time. I shall have to find another market."
The headman cursed and snapped, "Fair-weather friend, aren't you, Graystreak? When we can do
business, you and your people are in and out all the time. When it looks like we'll be months restoring
what we've lost, you're on your way!"
The centaur raised his brows. "My friend, I too have females. Without gifts, they attack males." He
offered his bare forearms for inspection: they were covered with old scars. "Our females can be" - he
hesitated, looking at Kel once more - "overly spirited."
She met his gaze levelly. I'll show you how spirited human females are, you sideslipping sack of ooze,
she thought.
Graystreak walked toward the gate, only to halt. Somehow Peachblossom and Raoul's warhorse,
Drum, had pulled free of their pickets. They stood between the centaur and the gate. Black Drum pawed
idly at the ground, as casual as if he had stopped to graze in this bare spot. Peachblossom's head was
slightly lowered, his ears flat to his skull. He kept one eye on Graystreak.
The centaur reared to show the geldings his stallion parts, and hissed at them in his own language.
Drum flicked one ear forward and the other back, all equine blandness. Peachblossom waited until
Graystreak settled onto his fours, then struck, snakelike, his teeth coming together with an audible click
as he missed. Graystreak scrambled to get out of range; he nearly fell.
But they're geldings, Kel thought, flabbergasted. Geldings don't face down stallions!
"Get these slaves out of my way," snarled Graystreak.
"That's the interesting thing about having the Wildmage about." Raoul was relaxed and cheery. "Palace
animals are changing. Soon most will work for us only if they want to. Some animals are further along, of
course."
More of the King's Own mounts had freed themselves of the picket lines. They walked through the
gate to stand behind Peachblossom and Drum, forming a barrier of horseflesh between Graystreak and
escape.
"I told my lord the other day that horses in particular are showing a smart streak," Flyndan added.
"You'd best be careful, Chief Graystreak. Your own slaves might rebel."
Graystreak glared at the humans, trembling with rage. "Tell them to move," he said, his polite mask in
tatters. "You've corrupted them! No gelding defies a stallion, not in the history of horsekind!"
"You don't think history gets rewritten, sometimes?" Flyndan inquired mildly.
"I'll ask them to step aside in a moment," Lord Raoul told the centaur. "There is one thing. I know you
weren't trying to avoid the issue - I'm sure it just slipped your mind - but under your treaty, you're
required to supply a third of your people to help capture these rogues. I know you'd have remembered in
a moment. Our horses just saved you the extra steps."
Graystreak's fists clenched. Then he smiled, his mask back in place. "Forgive me," he said. "I was
trying to decide who to send with you, and was preoccupied."