"Tamora Pierce - Protector Of The Small 4 - Lady Knight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pierce Tamora)

stolen meat.
Kel rested a hand on Tobe's shoulder. "You'll do as I ask?"
He nodded without meeting her eyes.
Kel guessed what was on his mind. "I'll never beat you, Tobe," she said quietly. "Ever. I may dunk you
in the tub and scrub you myself if I come back to find you only washed here and there, but you won't
bleed, you won't bruise, and you won't hobble out of this room. Understand?"
He looked up into her face. "Why do this, lady?" he asked, curious. "I'm on'y a nameless whelp, with
the mark of Scanra on me. What am I to the likes of you?"
Kel thought her reply over before she gave it. This could be the most important talk she would have
with Tobe. She wanted to be sure that she said the right things. "Well, Peachblossom likes you," she
answered slowly. "He's a fine judge of folk, Peachblossom. Except Neal. He's prejudiced about Neal."
"He just likes the way Neal squeaks when he's bit," Tobe explained.
Kel tucked away a smile. It sounded like something Peachblossom would think. "And for the rest? I
do it because I can. I've been treated badly, and I didn't like it. And I hate bullies. Now pile those rags
by the door and wash up. The water's getting cold." Not waiting for him to point out that cooler water
didn't seem so bad, she walked out and closed the door. She listened for a moment, waiting until she
heard splashes and a small yelp.
He's funny, she thought, striding down the hall. I like how he speaks his mind. Alvik didn't beat that
from him, praise Mithros.
At the top of the stairs, Kel halted. Below her, out of sight, she could hear Neal: "тАжbroken finger,
half-healed broken arm, cracked ribs, and assorted healed breaks. I'm giving your name to the
magistrate. I'll recommend he look in on you often, to see the treatment you give your other servants."
"Yes, milord, of course, milord." That was Innkeeper Alvik's unmistakable voice, oily and mocking at
the same time. "I'm sure my friend the magistrate will be oh so quick to look in on' me, as you say, once
you're down the road. Just you worry about Scanra. They'll be making it so hot for you there, you'll be
hard put to remember us Queensgrace folk."
"Yes, well, I thought of that," Neal said, his voice quiet but hard. "So here's something on account,
something your magistrate can't undo."
She heard a rustle of cloth. Alvik gasped. "Forcing a magic on me is a Crown offence!"
"Who will impress the Crown more, swine? The oldest son of Baird of Queenscove, or you?" asked
Neal cruelly. "And did my spell hurt?"
"Noooo," Alvik replied, dragging the sound out. Kel imagined he was checking his body for harm.
"It won't," Neal said. "At least, as long as you don't hit anyone. When you do, well, you'll feel the blow
as if you struck yourself. Clever spell, don't you think? I got the idea from something the Chamber of the
Ordeal did once." Neal's voice went colder. "Mind what I say, innkeeper. When you strike a servant, a
child, your wife, your own body will take the punishment. Mithros cut me down if I lie."
"All this over a whore's brat!" snarled the innkeeper. "You nobles are mad!"
"The whore's brat is worth far more than you." Neal's voice was a low growl at the bottom of the
stairs. "He's got courage. You have none. Get out of my sight."
Kel waited for the innkeeper to flee to his kitchen and Neal to return to the common room before she
descended. It was useless to say anything to Neal. He would just be embarrassed that he'd been caught
doing a good deed. He liked to play the cynical, heartless noble, but it was all for show. Kel wouldn't
ruin it for him.
It was a long ride to the wagonloads of goods for those made homeless by the Scanrans. Her lantern,
hung from a pole to light Hoshi's way, provided scant light as icy rain sizzled on its tin hood. Other riders
were out, members of the army camped on either side of the road for miles. Thanks to their directions,
Kel found the wagons in a village two miles off the Great Road North. They were drawn up beside one
of the large, barnlike buildings raised by the Crown to shelter troops and equipment on the road year
after year. In peaceful years local folk used the buildings to hold extra wood, grain, animals and even
people made homeless by natural disasters.