"Mary Kirchoff. Kendermore ("Dragonlance Preludes I" #2) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

on a stack of pillows.

His stomach growled, and he remembered why he was in the wagon.
As promised, he found a wide, shallow cupboard and opened the door.
Inside was a headless, unplucked chicken hanging from one leg, a small
bucket placed beneath it to catch drops of blood. The chicken seemed
pretty well drained, so Tas took it down and snatched up the bag of
dried beans. He located what smelled like fennel and sage in two of
the green, corked jars (but only after testing all of them, just to be
sure). He also nabbed a dried-up lemon - a treat, despite the mold -
and a few pans and bowls, and then left the wagon to join Woodrow by
the small fire.

"Miss Hornslager is bathing in a stream on the far side of that
grove of trees." Woodrow pointed, handing a half-filled bucket of
water to Tas. "Here, the horses didn't drink this water. You can use
it to flavor your cooking."

Wrinkling his nose, Tas took the wooden vessel. He was relieved
to find no foam on top, and even more so to see that the horses had
their own bucket. He dumped half of the beans into a bowl, added
enough of the cold, clear water to cover them, and set the bowl near
the fire to warm the water and soften the beans. Finally, he stretched
the chicken across his lap for plucking.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Woodrow asked, adding a few
larger sticks to the flames to encourage the coals.

"Watching my mother, I guess," Tas said. "She was a great cook,"
he said fondly. "She could turn a week-old loaf of bread into a feast!
One whiff of her mongoose pie caused riots in our neighborhood in
Kendermore. In fact, she was forbidden, by order of the Kendermore
Council, to make it anymore." Tasslehoff's eyes shone with pride.

"Was?" Woodrow said gently. "Is she dead?"

"I don't think so," Tasslehoff frowned, "but I haven't seen her
in a long time."

"If my mother were still alive, I'd visit her as often as I
could," Woodrow said wistfully, stirring the coals a little too
vigorously. "My father, too."

"Both your parents are dead? Gee, I'm sorry," said Tas kindly,
tearing out a handful of black feathers. "How did it happen?"

Woodrow blinked frequently. "My father came from a family of
Solamnic Knights. He was raised to it - he didn't know anything else.
He didn't care so much about the knighthood as he did about helping
people, though. And that was his downfall."