"Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - Dragons of Spring Dawning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

The storm shut down Flotsam tonight. The bars that normally stayed open until
the dawn straggled through their grimy windows were locked up and shuttered
against the gale. The streets were deserted, no one venturing out into the
winds that could knock a man down and pierce even the warmest clothing with
biting cold.
Tanis walked swiftly, his head bowed, keeping near the darkened buildings that
broke the full force of the gale. His beard was soon rimed with ice. Sleet
stung his face painfully. The half-elf shook with the cold, cursing the
dragonarmor's cold metal against his skin. Glancing behind him occasionally,
he watched to see if anyone had taken an unusual interest in his leaving the
inn. But the visibility was reduced to almost nothing. Sleet and rain swirled
around him so that he could barely see tall buildings looming up in the
darkness, much less anything else. After a while, he realized he better
concentrate on finding his way through town. Soon he was so numb with cold
that he didn't much care if anyone was following him or not.
He hadn't been in the town of Flotsam long-only four days to be precise. And
most of those days had been spent with her.
Tanis blocked the thought from his mind as he stared through the rain at the
street signs. He knew only vaguely where he was going. His friends were in an
inn somewhere on the edge of town, away from the wharf, away from the bars and
brothels. For a moment he wondered in despair what he would do if he got lost.
He dared not ask about them...
And then he found it. Stumbling through the deserted streets, slipping on the
ice, he almost sobbed in relief when he saw the sign swinging wildly in the
wind. He hadn't even been able to remember the name, but now he recognized
it-the Jetties.
Stupid name for an inn, he thought, shaking so with the cold he could barely
grasp the door handle. Pulling the door open, he was blown inside by the force
of the wind, and it was with an effort that he managed to shove the door shut
behind him.
There was no night clerk on duty-not at this shabby place. By the light of a
smoking fire in the filthy grate, Tanis saw a stub of a candle sitting on the
desk, apparently for the convenience of guests who staggered in after hours.
His hands shook so he could barely strike the flint. After a moment he forced
his cold-stiffened fingers to work, lit the candle, and made his way upstairs
by its feeble light.
If he had turned around and glanced out the window, he would have seen a
shadowy figure huddle in a doorway across the street. But Tanis did not look
out the window behind him; his eyes were on the stairs.


"Caramon!"
The big warrior instantly sat bolt upright, his hand reaching reflexively for
his sword, even before he turned to look questioningly at his brother.
"I heard a noise outside," Raistlin whispered. 'The sound of a scabbard
clanking against armor."
Caramon shook his head, trying to clear the sleep away, and climbed out of
bed, sword in hand. He crept toward the door until he, too, could hear the