"Patrick Welch - Rock of Wages" - читать интересную книгу автора (Welch Patrick)

"How much?"

"70 gold crowns."
The man gasped. "But, but we have not that much wealth in our entire village!"

I had heard false pleas of poverty before. "I cannot part with it for anything less. Of course, I
can leave you to your own devices..."

The man sighed. "And if this fails?"
"Fair enough. I will be out one very old and valuable chest."

"We must discuss this." I remained silent and stoic while the village elders discussed my
offer. The innkeeper was ashen when he returned. "We have no choice. If you succeed, 70
gold crowns it is." I nodded. "I need two of your strongest men to assist me." The innkeeper
returned with two brawny young lads. Not nearly as brawny, however, as the fast
approaching giant. "One of you on either side," I ordered. "I want you to pick up this chest
and fling it down the hill as far as you can."

They looked at each other, frowned, then did as instructed. I held my breath as the wooden
chest arched out and down the hill, then crashed resoundingly and burst apart. Immediately
a black buzzing cloud arose from the wreckage and started down the hill. Towards the man
struggling upward.
"Gnats," the innkeeper whispered as he stood next to me, watching.

"Yes. And quite hungry and viscous." Which indeed they were. They descended eagerly
upon the man, an army that was too vast and small for him to defeat. He struggled against
them valiantly, but in the end he had no recourse but to release the rope while he attempted
to drive them off. The boulder careened down the hill; he soon followed, trying to run and
discourage the stinging insects at the same time. Part of the horde remained hovering along
the hill while the remainder followed him to level ground. The giant would not succeed in
climbing the hill this day.
Imogen treated me to a well-deserved hero's welcome. The constable even allowed me to
set up my wagon and offer my amazing array of merchandise to the townsfolk. By eventide
my coffers were fully replenished.

I was enjoying a glass of the innkeeper's finest wine when one of my earlier customers
stormed into his establishment. "There you are!" he exploded. He threw something on my
table. "This chronometer does not work!"

I glanced down at the offending mechanism. "That is odd. It functioned properly before. You
saw so yourself. What did you do to it?"
"Nothing!" he spat. "I demand repayment. At once!"

"Sire, if there is a problem with my wares, I assure you I will rectify that. I should have another
suitable timepiece in my wagon."

My offer appeased him not. "I don't want your 'wares.' I want my money!"
My response was cut short by angry voices outside. The doors to the inn flew open and no
less than a dozen townspeople, led by the constable, burst in. None of them wore pleasant