"K. D. Wentworth - Hallah Iron-Thighs and the Five Unseemly Sorrows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wentworth K D)

Hallah Iron-Thighs and the Five Unseemly
Sorrows
K.D. Wentworth

It was a miserable, sultry day down in the valleys of deepest Findlebrot. What passed for streets, all two
of them, were choked with pink dust, pink apparently being the color of choice for most everything in
that part of the world. Gerta, and I, Hallah Iron-Thighs, sworn sisters-in-arms, had just escorted a herd
of attack goats across the mountains from Alowey. They had been ordered as Queen Maegard the
Meek's wedding present to her daughter, the illustrious Princess Merrydot. For once, the bandits
infesting the passes had been fairly scarce. We hadn't been forced to kill more than a dozen, hardly a
decent workout for my sword, Esmeralda.



In the distance, the Findlebrotian palace rose before us. It had the unfortunate appearance of being
sculpted from icing, then left out in the sun to melt. In keeping with the local color scheme, it was
constructed of the most nauseating of pink stone. The turrets were covered with a rounded stucco that
dripped with flourishes and curlicues, hardly a warrior's dream for defense. The crenellations were
nonexistent. A two-year-old with a battle-ax could have taken it.



Gerta scowled. "I hate this place."



"You can't hate it," I said. My bay mare, Corpsemaker, waggled her ears in agreement. "We just got
here. It takes at least half a day to properly loathe a country."



"Well, I hate its smell anyway," she said.



I couldn't argue with that. Findlebrot did have a most peculiar odor, oversweet and noxious as though a
perfume caravan had fallen off a mountain and smashed all the bottles in a heap.



"And look at that." She gestured at the pink castle. "It makes me embarrassed just to be close to that
eyesore."



"I don't care what it looks like as long as their gold is yellow," I said testily. I flicked my whip at an errant
attack goat that was taking aim at a local dog. It had been my decision to accept the Findlebrot run this
go-round, though it was very unpopular among our sisters-in-arms. Everyone who came back from
Findlebrot went on for days afterward about the locals and their ridiculous official list of "Unseemly
Sorrows," any and all of which could be committed without even trying. At the moment, though, our