Книга только для ознакомления
. A half-mile below was that
same valley he had been trying to leave when his raisins
shifted: the long, wooded valley between ridges, the one
those people had called Waykeep. The place with the
winding black road.
Off to Bobbin's left was the smoke of the refugee
camps, the people who had come across from the next
valley, fleeing an invasion of goblins. Ahead, just a few
miles, was the textured ice-field where he had first met
the kender, Chestal Thicketsway.
An old battleground, the creature had said. The lumps
of ice on the field contained fighting dwarves, frozen in
place. Bobbin saw no reason to doubt it, though why it
mattered was beyond him.
There were people out there now, on the ice. People
moving around. He squinted. Dwarves... and either
humans or elves. From such a distance, it was hard to
tell, except that some of them seemed to have beards.
Humans, then, he decided. Elves don't have beards.
Other movement caught the gnome's attention then,
far off to his right, to the south. He squinted, trying to
see details. A large group of... something... crossing
a clearing between stands of forest, coming north. Sun-
light glinted on metal. Armor?
The soarwagon's lazy circle brought it over the edge
of the ice field, and Bobbin leaned out to wave. "Some-
body'scomingyourway!" he shouted excitedly, waving
his arms and pointing. But he was ton high. The people
down there, dwarves and humans, obviously from the
refugee camps, were intent on the ice itself, and what
was under it
|
