"Steven Piziks - Patterns in the Chain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Piziks Steven)

showed a silvery dragon breathing copper fire. That one portrayed an exquisitely-rendered griffon leaping
into a star-flecked sky. Another twisted the eye with a fractal pattern of falling red-gold leaves.
Jeweline gasped and lowered her sword. "You made all these?"



Mother Berchte grinned with crooked teeth and briefly held up the half-finished hauberk in her lap before
returning to work. The needles sparked and flashed. Friction and torsion softened the wire, making it
easier to work.



Jeweline whistled under her breath, sheathed her sword, and went over to examine the mail shirts.
Mother Berchte watched her until the girl's eye fell on a shirt hanging in a corner half hidden by a stout
wooden wardrobe. The shirt was old and rusting. It looked like moths had been at it, though what kind
of moths would go for solid steel even Mother Berchte didn't care to think about.



Knit one, purl two. Knit one, purl two.



Jeweline put out a finger to touch the old hauberk, and a sly smile stole over her face. Mother Berchte
narrowed her eyes and kept on knitting. The girl had obviously heard some of the old tales. Either that or
she had been down to the river talking to Father Fluss. Slobbery bastard. And Jeweline was just the type
to set him slobbering.



"What about this one?" Jeweline asked, holding up the rusty shirt.



"You don't want that one, girl," Mother Berchte replied evenly. "It's old and poorly made."



"I don't want to be greedy," Jeweline said in a modest voice. "I'll take it."



Mother Berchte shrugged without missing a stitch. "It's your life."



Jeweline pulled the hauberk over her head, leaving wide streaks of rust in her hair, and hurried for the
cave's entrance. At the last moment she turned back. "Thank you," she said sincerely, and left. Mother
Berchte watched her go.