"Wentworth-AsYouSow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wentworth K D)

Why else do you think harvesting birdseed is a dying craft? It needs a young
man's strength."

Ungern lowered his gaze. "Thank you anyway." He turned to go.

"Wait!" The peddler's hand flashed out and gripped his shirt. "I may have just
the thing!" With his other hand, he reached below the table and brought up a
small grimy bag tied shut with a bit of string.

"What kind of seed is that?" Ungern squinted at the bedraggled paper label, but
the written characters were little more than faded squiggles.

"Something very special left over from several years ago." The old man's
wrinkled face beamed. "A little exotic for some folk, but you have the look of a
man who can appreciate life's finest. I can't guarantee that all of it will
sprout, so I'll let you have a full one half of this bag for one copper."

"Half?" Ungem picked up the tiny bag, feeling the seeds shift inside. There must
be dozens. He had never been able to afford more than four birdseeds at a time
in his whole life.

"All right, the whole thing then." Poeg folded his arms across his bony chest.
"I must say though, sir, you drive a hard bargain. It's not often a man gets the
best of me."

A smile stole over Ungern's face as he replaced the single copper on the table.
"Thank you!"

"Well, I need to clear out my stock." The peddler leaned closer and lowered his
voice. "Frankly, my bones are getting too old to harvest seed anymore. I love
it, but it's really a young man's craft. I need someone to take over the
collecting end of the business. Why don't you spend a few weeks in the forest
with me and learn the trade?"

"Leave the fields?" Ungem's forehead wrinkled at the thought. "That would be
wonderful!" But then he considered the consequences--if he did that, the
landlord would take back their cottage. He and Sonya would have to live in a hut
in the forest, and he could not see her agreeing to anything as drastic as that.
"But I'm afraid I have responsibilities."

"That's what they all say." Poegscowled. "Time was when people knew what was
important. They wanted a little beauty and song in their life, but no one cares
anymore. After I die, no one will be left who remembers how to find seeds before
they hatch. Where will people go for birds then?"

No more birdseed? Ungern tucked the bag inside his shirt, trying to imagine a
spring in which the only birds he saw were there by chance. It was a lonely
thought.

"So, Ungern?" Sonya's heavy eyebrows marched upward with the same forcefulness