"03 - Legacy of the Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberson Jennifer)

The smell struck him like a blow. Accustomed to the rich
earth odors of the Keep and the more subtle aromas of
Mujhara, Donal could not help but frown. Oil. The faintest
tang of fruit from clustered stalls. A hint of flowers, musk
and other unknown scents wafting from a perfume-merchant's
stall. But mostly fish. Everywhere fishЧin everything; he
could not separate even the familiar smell of his leathers,
gold and wool from the pervasive odor of fish.

The stallion's gait slowed to a walk, impeded by people,
pushcarts, stalls, booths, livestock and, occasionally, other
horses. Most people were on foot; Donal began to wish he
were, if only so he could melt into the crowd instead of riding
head and shoulders above them all.

14 Jennifer Roberson

Lorn? he asked.

Here, the wolf replied glumly, nearly under the stallion's
belly. Could you not have gone another way?

When I can find a way out of this mess, I will. He grimaced
as another rider, passing too close in the throng, jostled his
horse. Knees collided painfully. The man, swearing softly
beneath his breath as he rubbed one gray-clad knee, glanced
up as if to apologize.

But he did not. Instead he stared hard for a long moment,
then drew back in his saddle and spat into the street.
"Shapechanger!" he hissed from between his teeth, "go
back to your forest bolt-hole! We want none of your kind
here in Hondarth!"

Donal, utterly astonished by the reaction, was speechless,
so stunned was he by the virulence in words and tone.

"I said, go back!" the man repeated. His face was red-
dened by his anger. A pock-marked face, not young, not old,
but rilled with violence. "The Mujhar may give you freedom
to stalk the streets of Mujhara in whatever beast-form you
wear, but here it is different! Get you gone from this city,
shapechanger!"

No. It was Lom, standing close beside the stallion. What
good would slaying him do, save to tend credence to the
reasons/or his hatred?

Donal looked down and saw how his right hand rested on
me gold hilt of his long-knife. Carefully, so carefully, he