"Christopher Stasheff - Rogue Wizard 07 - A Wizard In Midgard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stasheff Christopher)

crumbled tea leaves into each, and waited for the water to boil.
While he waited, he took out bread and cheese and slowly, carefully cut his
slices and laid a thick slab of cheese on the bread. He ate slowly, too,
savoring each morsel, and feeling the answering pang of hunger in the watching
woman. He guessed she'd had very little to eat in the last few days.
The water boiled, and Gar poured some into each mug, then took out salt beef and
dried vegetables to add to the water. He stirred it and waited, sipping first
from the one mug, then the other. The fragrance of the tea rose into the
morning, strange to the woman, but to judge by her thoughts, very enticing. Soon
the aroma of the stew reached her, too, and the pang of hunger became a stab.
Now Gar caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. She was crouching
behind a bush, peering through a gap in the leaves. Giving no sign that he'd
seen her, Gar cut a thick slice of cheese and broke off some bread, then rose
and went around the fire, put the wooden platter on a rock with a mug of
sweetened tea beside it, and went back to his own. place some ten feet away.
Alea had run as fast as she could, too frightened to consider whether the
stranger was a friend or an enemy. She had nearly panicked again when she saw
him coming her way, but the childhood fables of the wisdom of the rabbit had
made her freeze where she hid. She had watched him, ready to bolt in an instant,
and had felt great relief when he settled down to his campfire. But the sight of
the bread and cheese had started hunger gnawing at her belly, reminding her that
she'd eaten only handfuls of berries and a few raw roots since she'd finished
the bread she'd taken when she ran away, three days before. Then the delicious
scent of whatever it was in those cups had almost undone her, almost pushed her
to go to him and beg a morsel-but fear held her in place. After all, it was a
strange smell, and who knew what he had put in those cups? But she had watched
him drink out of first the one, then the other, and had decided that whatever it
was, it wouldn't hurt her.
Also, the message was clear-Come share a cup with me, my fair!-and when she
realized it meant he knew she was watching, she had almost run away. But her
fear had begun to slacken, for she had never seen a slave-hunter who tried to
entice rather than pursue. Curiosity roused as strongly as her hunger, and held
her watching until the aroma of the stew made her weak at the knees. Now,
though, the invitation was undeniable indeed-a plate of food and a mug of drink
for her, far enough away to give her a head start, and with a fire between to
slow him down. She didn't trust him for a second, of course, but oh! How she
needed a friend! Besides, he had chased away the hunters-and he was as tall as
she, taller. Like her, he needed to fear the Midgarders, but wouldn't be welcome
among the giants.
Then, too, he was wearing slave clothes.
She made up her mind; food and companionship were worth the gamble. Clutching
her staff, she moved slowly around the bush, rising a bit but still crouched,
and prowled around his campsite toward the bread and cheese. He gave no sign of
seeing her, didn't look her way, even kept his eyes on his own plate, but
somehow she knew he was aware of her every movement. Slowly, ready to bolt at
the slightest threat, she came closer, then snatched the plate and retreated
back among the leaves, eating while she watched him.
Even out of the corner of his eye, Gar saw her clearly, and was amazed at her
tallness-well over six feet, when most of the women he had met in his life had
been a foot shorter. He was also struck by the voluptuousness of her figure-she