"David Eddings. Pawn of prophecy queen of sorcery magician's gambit (The Belgariad, Part one)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Wolf jingled his purse, and the sour man looked suddenly less sour.
"Why is that man over there sleeping?" Garion asked, pointing at a
snoring villager sitting with his head down on one of the tables.
"Drunk," Wolf said, scarcely glancing at the snoring man.
"Shouldn't someone take care of him?"
"He'd rather not be taken care of."
"Do you know him?"
"I know of him," Wolf said, "and many others like him. I've
occasionally been in that condition myself."
"Why?"
"It seemed appropriate at the time."
The roast was dry and overdone, the meat porridge was thin and watery,
and the bread was stale, but Garion was too hungry to notice. He carefully
cleaned his plate as he had been taught, then sat as Mister Wolf lingered
over a second pot of ale.
"Quite splendid," he said, more to be saying something than out of any
real conviction. All in all he found that Upper Gralt did not live up to
his expectations.
"Adequate." Wolf shrugged. "Village taverns are much the same the world
over. I've seldom seen one I'd hurry to revisit. Shall we go?" He laid
down a few coins, which the sour-looking man snatched up quickly, and led
Garion back out into the afternoon sunlight.
"Let's find your Aunt's spice merchant," he said, "and then see to a
night's lodging-and a stable for our horse."
They set off down the street, leaving horse and cart beside the tavern.
The house of the Tolnedran spice merchant was a tall, narrow building
in the next street. Two swarthy, thickbodied men in short tunics lounged
in the street at his front door near a fierce-looking black horse wearing
a curious armored saddle. The two men stared with dull-eyed disinterest at
passers-by in the lane.
Mister Wolf stopped when he caught sight of them.
"Is something wrong?" Garion asked.
"Thulls," Wolf said quietly, looking hard at the two men.
"What?"
"Those two are Thulls," the old man said. "They usually work as porters
for the Murgos."
"What are Murgos?"
"The people of Cthol Murgos," Wolf said shortly. "Southern Angaraks."
"The ones we beat at the battle of Vo Mimbre?" Garion asked. "Why would
they be here?"
"The Murgos have taken up commerce," Wolf said, frowning. "I hadn't
expected to see one of them in so remote a village. We may as well go in.
The Thulls have seen us, and it might look strange if we turned now and
went back. Stay close to me, boy, and don't say anything."
They walked past the two heavyset men and entered the spice merchant's
shop.
The Tolnedran was a thin, baldheaded man wearing a brown, belted gown
that reached to the floor. He was nervously weighing several packets of
pungent-smelling powder which lay on the counter before him.
"Good day to you," he said to Wolf. "Please have patience. I'll be with