"Sarah Zettel - A Young Swordswoman's Garden Primer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zettel Sarah)

"Do you know who I am?" Allys pulled herself up to her full height. Her flaming, auburn curls brushed the shop's
ceiling.

The shopkeeper did not look impressed. "You are Allys the Bold, Swordswoman of the Mystic East, daughter
Ferra, daughter of Ganelle d'Rainier, or so you said. But I am Drethwain, Shopkeeper of the First Order and in the nam
my family honor, I will not sell you a magic item for less than thrice what I paid for it!"

Allys sighed. She could, of course, kill him and take the rusty hauberk in the corner, but she was wearing her
business clothes. When people hired a Genuine Barbarian Swordswoman, Deeply Versed in Secrets-of-the-Mystic-Ea
they wanted brass and jewels, jingly gold chains, flowing purple cloaks, gleaming headbands holding back flaming tresse
sword that would split an elephant, and daggers tucked into all manner of exotic locales. This town was crowded, and a
her personal business was concluded, she would almost certainly need to find work again. Allys saw no point in letting t
paying customers, or even the potential customers, down.

"This world is all illusion anyway," Chi Xe, her surprisingly young Wise-Old-Master had told her. "Work with it.

The problem was, the outfit was an absolute bitch to try to fight in.

Allys sighed and gave the hauberk on its crooked stand an appraising look. It was almost solid rust. Cobwebs t
off its short sleeves.

If that oracle was pulling a fast one, I'm going to drop her into that sacred well head first. She had paid the skinn
doe-eyed woman for three answers to three questions; Can I regain my ancestral castle? What aid do I need to accomp
this? Where do I find it? The answers: yes, wear the magic armor of the D'Rainiers, and the northwest corner of Drethw
Shoppe of Ancient Mysteries, had led her here to confront this greasy man with definite feelings about his standing in the
world.

She held up her hand. "Far be it from me, Sir, to seek to undo any man's honor." She planted her shiny, black b
on a creaking chair, and pulled out one of her daggers. With a grunt, she twisted the biggest scarlet "jewel" out of its pom
and tossed it to Drethwain.

"That is the ruby Tharyx, taken from the dagger that killed the dragon Quaraeth the Most Fell. Whosoever carri
cannot be deceived by any lie or illusion of man, monster or god."

"Is that true?" Drethwain squinted at the stone.

"As far as you know."

He gave her a gap-toothed smile. "The shirt's yours. As is."

She did manage to get him to wrap it up first. She had no intention of getting rust and cobwebs smeared all over
glittery work clothes. She slung the bundle across the rump of Grandiere, her huge, white (naturally), gelding (symbolism
important) and swung herself into the saddle. She cantered out of town, waving her sword and singing fierce-sounding
nonsense she'd picked up from Chi Xe. You never knew who was watching.

Her camp was three leagues from town in a wooded dingle. She dismounted Grandiere, removed his tack, let hi
drink, wiped him down and tethered him where he could graze.

Her horse attended to, she took care of herself. She stripped off the gold-and-emerald headband, and the aubu
wig underneath it, rolled the huge sword in the flashy cloak and disengaged the uncomfortably located daggers. In a few