Книга только для ознакомления
."
She handed the tool back to Wingover, and he studied
it. "I thought it might be a hammer," he said. "So we can
suppose that Chane Feldstone did stop here and make
himself a hammer. Why would he have gone off and left
it?"
"Oh, Chane wouldn't have wanted anything as crude
as that," the girl explained, wondering again at the vagar-
ies of the human mind. This human seemed quite intelli-
gent in many ways, but there were some things he just
didn't seem to grasp. Things any dwarf would under-
stand immediately.
The man stood and frowned at her. "Well, if he made it
and didn't want to keep it, what did he do with it?"
"He used it to make another hammer, of course."
Wingover sighed and shook his head. Jilian was prob-
ably right, he decided. It sounded like good dwarven
logic.
"The inscription is right there." She pointed. "Right on
top. Here..." Opening her small pack, Jilian brought
out a beautiful dagger with a mirror-bright blade and a
grip of ebony and brass. "Here, see the inscription on this
blade? It's the same as the one on that hammer. I imagine
we'll find him just any time now. Don't you think so?"
Wingover didn't answer. He was walking slowly
around the forge site, looking at the ground. He circled it
twice, stopped, and squatted for a closer look at some-
thing
|
