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

indeed a border.
The dwarves held their formation until the last boat was well out from shore,
then turned to embrace one another, slap each other's backs, and even break into
an impromptu dance here and there.
Magnus stared at the close-up. "Some of them are beardless. . . ."
"And their cuirasses are very pronounced about their gender," Herkimer finished.
"Many of those warriors are women."
"No wonder, when they're so badly outnumbered, and so small into the bargain!
We're looking at a military society, Herkimer."
"Ii would seem so," the computer agreed. "Holding so tight a formation under the
stress of battle speaks of long training."
"Yes,. from childhood, probably." Magnus frowned. "And as with the giants, if we
could find a battle so quickly, they have to be common-another part of life,
like plowing and reaping."
"A time to sow, a time to reap, and a time for war,"-the computer agreed.
But the dwarf slaves in these fields hadn't learned to fight, and the only time
for them was a time to suffer.
When the sun neared the horizon, Kawsa and half a dozen other overseers lined
them up with shouts and insults, then started them off in a shuffling line back
to the farmstead. They went down through rows of barley and hops to a broad
farmyard of clean tan gravel. Another file of slaves was driving cows into a
milking barn, and three others were pouring swill into the troughs of a huge
pigsty. Gar's file shuffled past them all to a long ramshackle shed of unpainted
boards, and inside.
There the silence ended. Half of the slaves dropped down onto pallets of moldy
straw with moans of relief. Others only sat down on rude benches, but everyone
breathed sighs of relief. Even the older children sat down with groans, their
dusty little faces lined with weariness. The younger children had been able to
nap in the field, though, and still frolicked and quarrelled. Magnus expected
some of the tired adults to snap at the little ones, but they only sighed with
philosophic patience-and a surprising number of them watched the children with
doting smiles. Even in the midst of such misery, they found pleasure in the
innocent squabbles and joys of their children.
Magnus noticed a great lack of water, and a greater need for it.
A tall young woman came up to him with a bucket from which she lifted a dripping
ladle. "Drink, lad, for you'll need it!"
"Thank you," Magnus said sincerely, and drank the ladle dry, thinking it was the
sweetest drink he had ever had during peacetime-if you could call this peace. He
handed it back to the woman with a sigh of relief. "I needed that."
"I'm sure you did," she said, then reached out to touch his forehead, frowning
anxiously. Magnus forced himself to hold still, though the touch of her fingers
hurt. "You've a right ugly bruise there," she told him, "and a few more I can't
see, I don't doubt."
"I'm sure you're right," Magnus told her. "I've a dozen aches at least. Believe
me, I've had hours to count them.", "Don't I know it!" she said. "My name's
Greta."
"I'm honored to meet you, Greta." Magnus inclined his head gravely. "My name is
Gar Pike."
She stared at him in surprise, then gave him a wan smile. "A gar pike, are you?
Gar I don't doubt, and you're a poor fish indeed, to let yourself be caught like