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

until the coals burned black, long after Tasslehoff and Woodrow had
both curled up to sleep.


Chapter 4

Phineas wiped the night's grit from his eyes with a corner of
his white smock as he clomped down the wooden stairs, headed for his
office below. Grimacing, he smacked his lips. His mouth had an awful,
metallic taste, as if he'd been sucking on a rusty sword. Undoubtedly
residue from the pitcher of kender ale he'd drunk before falling
asleep last night, he decided.

After opening the door to his examination room at the foot of
the stairs, he quickly lit the stub of a candle in the darkened room
and headed straight for the counter that contained the green glass
bottle of his own special elixir. It was Phineas's cure for anything
that couldn't be covered up with a bandage, ear plugs, or oiled
parchment glasses, or pulled out like teeth or in-grown toenails. He
prescribed it for headaches, stomachaches, foot aches, joint aches,
sore throats, bulging eyes, rashes, bad breath, swollen tongues,
irregularity, and a host of other ills that seemed to plague the
citizens of Kendermore. Oddly enough, he'd found that the
sharp-tasting liquid was actually effective against stomachaches and
bad breath. He charged a dear price for his elixir, claiming that its
mystical ingredients came "from dangerous lands far away, where
strangers are met with the sword and the flame and seldom escape with
their lives." Kenders' eyes would open wide as they contemplated the
green bottle, and a low whistle would often escape their lips as they
reached greedily for the exotic medicine.

Taking a swig now and swishing it around in his mouth, Phineas's
full cheeks jiggled with mirth. The special ingredients of his elixir
were a few crushed cherry and eucalyptus leaves that he scavenged from
the trash behind the neighborhood apothecary's shop. Nothing mystical
about that. Certainly he had never put a bone from a lycanthropic
minotaur in any batch, as he'd told the kender the night before.

Thus remembering his visitor, Phineas's eyes fell across the
folded paper on the nearby wooden tray.

"That Trapspringer was a con artist - maybe even better than
me!" the human admitted aloud, unfolding the sheet absently. It was a
map. He was about to crumble it between his fists when a word on one
corner fleetingly caught his attention.

The word was "treasure."

Frowning in thought, Phineas thumbed the map open and spread it
out on the counter, allowing the glow of the candle to fall over it.