Книга только для ознакомления
." The elf
looked up quizzically. "And by the way, good morning
to you, too, Wingover."
"Hope you didn't mind my crashing your party," the
man said.
"Not at all. There were plenty to go around. Frankly,
I'm glad you showed up. I knew they were here - smelled
them a ways back - but I didn't know how many, or ex-
actly where they were. But I still can't imagine what
they're doing this far south."
"That's what I want to know, too." Wingover squatted
on his heels, tilting his head to study the wide, feral face
of the unconscious goblin. Dark blood seeped from its
nose and mouth. "Maybe he'll tell us about it, if he wakes
Up.
As though on cue, the goblin stirred and groaned.
Garon knelt and lifted one of the creature's eyelids with
his thumb. "He's coming around. Let's peel this armor off
of him. He'll be more talkative without his shell."
"Whatever you say. You've dealt with goblins."
"When I had to." The elf glanced at Wingover, melan-
choly elven eyes curious. "I gather you made it to Pax
Tharkas?"
"Made it, and the pack I'm bringing back will cost Ro-
gar Goldbuckle a fine purse. But then, the bet was his
idea."
'What if he decides to pay you in kind, by freeing you
of your debt of service to him?"
"He won't. Goldbuckle's a wily old dwarf, and he
won't put money ahead of collectible service
|
