Книга только для ознакомления
. He looks as though he
might have died just minutes ago.
"Old," something seemed to say.
Chess stood and turned away, but stopped as some-
thing in the flat ice underfoot caught his attention. He
knelt again, brushing at the surface. Just beneath it,
things glittered and shone. He went to work with his
staff.
Breaking away the shallow ice, he found a broad-
sword, its edge notched by combat but still as shiny as
when it was new. He lifted it, then set it aside. A good
dwarven weapon, it was too heavy and awkward to suit
a kender. But there were other interesting things there, as
well. One by one, he lifted out a pewter mug, a string of
marble beads, and a little glass ball. He looked them
over, then moved on. Under other ice mounds were
other dead dwarves, some standing, some kneeling and
some fallen. Dwarves with hammers and swords, frozen
in mortal combat. Hill dwarves and mountain dwarves,
locked now in solid ice in a battle that would never end.
"What ever could they have been fighting about?" the
kender wondered.
"The gates," something seemed to say.
Chess peered all around, shading his eyes. He saw
nothing anywhere that looked like gates. "Gates? What
gates?"
"The gates of Thorbardin," the silence seemed to say.
"That dwarf should have come with me," the kender
muttered
|
