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

if Neal's learned to keep his opinions to himself, it'll be more than any of us were ever able to teach him."
Kel started to argue, and changed her mind. Dom was certainly right about Neal.
"Trust me," Dom said, resting a hand on Kel's shoulder, "I bet he wishes right now you had his place!"
He went to help some men carry a heavy beam down the street.
Kel resisted the temptation to rub the spot where Dom's hand had rested. She needed to find work.
Was she some kind of fickle monster, that Dom's smile and touch could make her giddier than Neal's
had? Was she one of those females who always had to moon over a man? Did other girls' emotions flop
every which way? Lalasa had never mentioned it, if hers did, and she was quite good at explaining such
things.
"That's my doll."
 Kel looked down. A small girl stared up at her with accusing brown eyes. She was streaked with mud
and soot; there were charred places on her skirt, but there was nothing afraid or weary in those eyes.
"I looked and looked and looked. I thought Gavan stole it because he knew I would cry. She's my
favorite."
Kel had forgotten the doll she had cleaned and thrust into her belt. Now she gave it to its owner, who
informed Kel that "Mama needs help lifting".
"Take me to your mother, then," Kel said.
The girl's home was a shambles. Soot streaked the walls above the windows. Men and boys were on
the roof, tearing off burned thatch as they searched for hidden fires. A figure the size of an infant lay in
front of the house, covered with a cloth square.
"That's my brother," the girl said, her face stony. "We were running across the street. The house was
on fire, and men were shooting arrows, and one hit him. He died."
She led Kel into the house. A woman whose eyes were red and puffy from weeping struggled to right
an overturned table. A toddler clutched her skirt. Kel got to work with the table while her guide took
charge of the toddler. The young mother was happy for the assistance, and asked nothing of Kel past her
name.
They had set the room in order and put the beds out to air when Kel heard someone yell for her. She
apologized to the family and ran out, to find Lerant in the street.
"What have you been doing, rolling in muck?" he demanded scornfully, looking down his short nose at
her. "Well, never mind. The Rider Groups are here, and the centaurs, the ones who are going to help
search. They're in a tent outside the main gate. My lord wants you to wait on them. The wine service is in
the bags with the blue rawhide ties, with the packhorses. There's two small kegs of wine in general
supplies." He trotted away, not giving Kel time to reply.
She drew a bucket of water from a nearby well and poured it over her head to rinse off most of the
dirt. Then she went to find the supplies outside the stockade.
The packs lay on the ground. Raoul's personal ones had his crest pressed into the leather. Those with
blue rawhide ties lay beside them. She had gone through one and was opening the second when a man
shouted, "Hey! You! What are you after, grubbing in the captain's things? Get out of there!"
A servingman ran over to grab Kel's arm. "You think you can steal whatever you like, is that it? Well -
"
"Hold it, Noack," someone interrupted. It was the burly Sergeant Osbern. "What's this noise? They
can hear you at the council tent."
"He was in Captain Flyndan's bags, and I'm not to squawk?" the man Noack demanded.
"Squire Keladry?" Osbern inquired. Kel nodded.
"Squire?" cried the testy Noack. "Squire or no - "
Osbern raised his eyebrows. Noack went silent and let go of Kel.
"I was told my lord's wine service was here, and that I should bring it and the wine to the council tent,"
Kel said evenly. "I didn't know those were Captain Flyndan's bags."
"Who told you?" the sergeant inquired.
Obviously Lerant was having fun at her expense, but she would keep that to herself. "One of the men,