"Joel Rosenberg - 04 - The Heir Apparent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenberg Joel C)

Baron, you're an asshole, Karl Cullinane thought as he approached the keep, crawling on his belly
through the tall grasses.

If Baron Arondael was going to try to explore the possibility of rebelling against his prince and emperor,
at least he could have had the goddam consideration to have his goddam groundskeepers mow the
goddam lawn so that the goddam prince and emperor couldn't quietly sneak up on him, thereby forcing
said goddam prince and emperor to come up with some plan either more straightforward or more devious
than creeping through the goddam grass on his goddam hands and knees.

He paused for a moment and rose to his knees to rub at the stubs that were all that remained of the three
outermost fingers of his left hand. After all these years, he had gotten used to managing with thumb and
forefinger; he rarely missed themтАФ

*Matter of fact, you can count in base seven better than anyone else I know.*

тАФbut grass made the stumps itch.

Baron, you are going to pay for my itching stumps.


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That seemed only fair. The stumps weren't Arondael's fault; the itching was.

*Good, good,* the sarcastic voice echoed in his head. *Worry about what a jerk Baron Arondael is and
how you'd rather just walk up to the castle. Much, much better to think about what you'd rather be doing
than to concentrate on what you are doing. Why not worry how Jason's lessons at Home are coming
along?*

EllegonтАФ

*Maybe you could concentrate on Jason's incompetence in long division instead of the admittedly more
minor issue of whether or not somebody's going to shove a sword through your guts.*

Sarcasm doesn't become you.

*Stupidity doesn't look good on anyone. Do you know the technical term for the children of stupid
soldiers?*

Okay, I'll bite: What do you call them?

*Orphans.*

To his right, General Garavar and the six soldiers strung out beyond him pretended that Ellegon hadn't
included them in his mental broadcast.

There was one exception. And a carefully pitched snort of derision that couldn't have carried farther than