"K. D. Wentworth - Blade Runner" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wentworth K D)

Blade Runner
K. D. Wentworth
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I, Hallah Iron-Thighs, eldest daughter of Manilla Big-Fist, hereby proclaim I will take n
more contracts with professional blades. Everything about the breed sets my teeth on edge,
way they're always mooning around the One-Handed Virgin, posturing and making calf's ey
at the serving lad just to keep in practice, running their best lines with one another, and
generally making a nuisance of themselves. In my opinion, they ought to be driven out of the
kingdom altogether, but the eight unmarried princesses currently in residence are fond of th
breed, and so they hang about, hoping to one day get past the portcullis and ply their trade.
Even their designation, blade, is an offense, sounding as though they have trained, as have I
my sisters-in-arms, to sell the services of their swords, a time-honored profession, when
nothing is further from the truth.

My partner, Gerta, and I had just made it back from a tough run across the mountains to t
Kingdom of Damery, which lies adjacent to our own Alowey, fair land of really exceptiona
milk goats and beautifully tooled salt cellars. We'd had a profitable, though difficult trip,
delivering a choice brace of priests to a rundown monastery just beyond Damery's principa
castle. They have a chronic shortage of priests there, something to do with the king blaming
God when the crops fail and, of course, the weather is always just dreadful in Damery.

As usual, Gerta and I had been attacked by bandits when we crossed the pass. Bandits,
being such awful sods, are always worried about the state of their immortal souls and simp
desperate to unburden themselves with a priest. Gerta, who hails from across the channel, i
inclined to cut a truly repentant bandit a bit of slack and give him a word with one of our bo
gratis. Me, I say if the little bleeders want a priest so bad, they should buy one of their own
like everyone else. This go-round my sword, Esmeralda, left three of them lying gutted at th
bottom of the nearest chasm whilst the other two scampered up the nearest granite cliff and
headed for the peaks.

I'd broken three nails defending our profits and the priests' integrity, and lost one of my b
greaves into the bargain, the one with the magical inscription that protects me from crow's-
so by the time we reached the One-Handed Virgin, I was in a really foul mood. The serving
lad, Barth, had enough sense to bring me a foaming tankard without being asked and then to
off at regular intervals. I like that in a boy.

I was just sizing him up-those limpid eyes, blue as a mountain lake, that abundance of
crinkly black hair, and all the other fine ways in which the little rascal had really filled out
the last year, thinking he might be capable of warming a girl's pillow now-when someone
plunked down several more brimming tankards in front of Gerta and me, then slid into the
opposite chair.
 He was slim, but well built, dark in the way the princesses favored, but reeked of crushe
violets, a cheap scent and therefore not a promising sign. Also he was a bit long in the tooth
our discriminating young ladies, but several of them are just kinky enough to want to get it o
with a bloke old enough to be their father, so I supposed he might still have a chance at woo
them. Gerta took in the fancy clothes, then grinned broadly, the ale blurring her already not
discriminating palate. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, propping one