"Mary Kirchoff, Douglas Niles. Flint, the King ("Dragonlance Preludes II" #2) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

ther's father, Reghar Fireforge, had been a leader of the hill
dwarf armies during the tragic, divisive Dwarfgate Wars.
Flint could not believe that the dwarves of Hillhome would
avert their eyes to the undying blood feud.
"I'm afraid they are," replied Hanak, his tone gentler.
"Theiwar dwarves at that, the derro dwarves of Thor-
bardin."
"Derro? It can't be!" growled Flint. That was even worse.
Indeed, the derro - the race of dwarves that comprised the
bulk of the Theiwar clan - were known to be the most mali-
cious of mountain dwarves. Their magic-using shamans had
been the prime instigators of the Great Betrayal.
The other dwarf backed a step away this time and held up
his hands defensively. "I only know what I saw, friend, and I
saw derro strolling merrily among the dwarves of
Hillhome - and not a one of the hill dwarves was spitting on
'em, either."

"I can't believe that," Flint muttered, shaking his head. "I
can't believe my brothers would allow it. Our family used to
carry some weight in the village. Maybe you heard our
name - Fireforge? My brother's name is Aylmar Fireforge."
A shadow crossed the other dwarf's face fleetingly, and he
seemed almost to nod, then think better of it. "No, it doesn't
ring a bell," he said, then quickly added, "but I didn't stay
long enough to get to know anyone so very well."
Flint ran a weary hand through his salt-and-pepper mop.
Could Hanak be right about mountain dwarves infesting
Hillhome?
Flint felt a strong hand squeeze his shoulder. "If my kin-
folk were dealing with devils, I'd go have me a look," Hanak
said kindly. "May Reorx guide you." With that, he strolled
out the door of the grocery, leaving Flint to his troubled
thoughts.
Amos slammed a brown, wrapped bundle onto the
counter before him. "Salt, a bag of apples, four eggs, a slab
of bacon, one jar of pickles, two loaves of day-old bread,
four pounds of the richest Nordmaarian chicory root
known to man - and dwarves -" He snickered "- a vial of
tar to fix those creaky shutters before winter sets, and the
long-awaited malt rum," he finished with satisfaction.
Flint reached into the pocket of the vest over his shoulder
and said distractedly, "You can leave the tar. I won't be here
to see winter reach Solace."
Noting the dark tone in the dwarf's voice, Amos looked at
his friend with concern, but he knew better than to ask ques-
tions. The shopkeeper had never seen Flint so preoccupied,
even when those young, troublemaking friends of his were
in town. He took the money for Flint's purchases and word-
lessly nodded good-bye.