"K. D. Wentworth - Hallah Iron-Thighs & the Change of Life" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wentworth K D)

I stared sourly at Gerta's perfect profile and firm figure. The serving lad, down at the Disappointed Sheep
Tavern, had been making eyes at her last night, while I had only attracted the attentions of a smelly,
no-good, toothless goat herder. I'd had to threaten to disembowel the latter in order to keep the idiot
from hovering behind my back the whole evening.



"You always get crabby when you're too long in the saddle," Gerta said.



Overhead, a red-tailed hawk creeled and dove through the crystalline mountain air. I considered
skewering it with an arrow for being so cheerful, then turned around in my saddle to glare at Gerta. "Are
you implying that I'm getting soft?"



The hymnal merchant flinched, then kneed his donkey and trotted ahead of us around the next bend in the
trail.



"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," I called after him. "This pass is dangerous. You never know when
you're going to run into a bunch of low-down, dirty, skulking banтАФ"



"And just who are you calling `dirty' there, ducks?" a familiar male voice called down from the rocks
above. "Actually, I'm thinking the two of you could do with a bit of spit and polish your own selves."



"Lomo, you skunk!" Corpsemaker's hooves clattered as I pulled her up.



"That's Lomo, King of the Bandits, to you," he said haughtily.



I leaped out of the saddle, my sword Esmeralda in hand. "I thought I split your thieving head open the last
time you waylaid us!"



"That," he said loftily from his unseen perch, "was merely a clever ruse on my part."



"Rats and eels, I hate it when they won't stay dead!" Gerta joined me, her sword at the ready, head