"Patrick Rothfuss - Kingkiller 01 - The Name of the Wind" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rothfuss Patrick)

at the bar sipped their drinks and listened. In the back room a young
innkeeper stood out of sight behind the door, smiling as he listened to the
details of a familiar story.
"When he awoke, Taborlin the Great found himself locked in a high
tower. They had taken his sword and stripped him of his tools: key, coin, and
candle were all gone. But that weren't even the worst of it, you see . . . " Cob
paused for effect, " . . . cause the lamps on the wall were burning blue!"
Graham, Jake, and Shep nodded to themselves. The three friends had
grown up together, listening to Cob's stories and ignoring his advice.
Cob peered closely at the newer, more attentive member of his small audi-
ence, the smith's prentice. "Do you know what that meant, boy?" Everyone
called the smith's prentice "boy" despite the fact that he was a hand taller than
anyone there. Small towns being what they are, he would most likely remain
"boy" until his beard filled out or he bloodied someone's nose over the matter.
The boy gave a slow nod. "The Chandrian."
"That's right," Cob said approvingly. "The Chandrian. Everyone knows
that blue fire is one of their signs. Now he wasтАФ"
"But how'd they find him?" the boy interrupted. "And why din't they kill
him when they had the chance?"
"Hush now, you'll get all the answers before the end," Jake said. "Just let
him tell it."
4 Patrick Rothfuss
"No need for all that, Jake," Graham said. "Boy's just curious. Drink your
drink."
"I drank me drink already," Jake grumbled. "I need t'nother but the
innkeep's still skinning rats in the back room." He raised his voice and
knocked his empty mug hollowly on the top of the mahogany bar. "Hoy!
We're thirsty men in here!"
The innkeeper appeared with five bowls of stew and two warm, round
loaves of bread. He pulled more beer for Jake, Shep, and Old Cob, moving
with an air of bustling efficiency.
The story was set aside while the men tended to their dinners. Old Cob
tucked away his bowl of stew with the predatory efficiency of a lifetime
bachelor. The others were still blowing steam off their bowls when he fin-
ished the last of his loaf and returned to his story.
"Now Taborlin needed to escape, but when he looked around, he saw his
cell had no door. No windows. All around him was nothing but smooth,
hard stone. It was a cell no man had ever escaped.
"But Taborlin knew the names of all things, and so all things were his to
command. He said to the stone: 'Break!' and the stone broke. The wall tore
like a piece of paper, and through that hole Taborlin could see the sky and
breathe the sweet spring air. He stepped to the edge, looked down, and with-
out a second thought he stepped out into the open air. . .."
The boy's eyes went wide. "He didn't!"
Cob nodded seriously. "So Taborlin fell, but he did not despair. For he
knew the name of the wind, and so the wind obeyed him. He spoke to the
wind and it cradled and caressed him. It bore him to the ground as gently as
a puff of thistledown and set him on his feet softly as a mother's kiss.
"And when he got to the ground and felt his side where they'd stabbed
him, he saw that it weren't hardly a scratch. Now maybe it was just a piece