Книга только для ознакомления
.
'"This is how you can best help me," he said softly. She looked
puzzled, but nodded.
A body detached itself from the chair on which it had been
draped like a homemade doll. "Tika-"
"Loriel?" Tika couldn't believe it. "Your hair looks like a bird's
nest." She added, "Sea bird. Sloppy one."
"It does?" Loriel put a hand up, then dropped it. "No matter.
Tika, the most exciting thing. Patrig told me last night that he likes
me. He said so again this morning."
"Patrig?" Tika looked around. A pair of familiar boots stuck out
from under the main table, toes spread. "Loriel, he spoke this
morning?"
"For a while. Then he fell back asleep." Her eyes shone. "He
sang so beautifully last night-"
"I remember," Tika said flatly. She couldn't imagine anyone
admiring his singing, and Loriel was musical. "Walk with me, and
tell me about it."
They ran down the stairs together.
After that, painfully, the patrons gathered their belongings-in
some cases their clothes-and paid up. Some had to walk quite a
distance to find everything. Purses and buskins and jerkins lay
throughout the room, and knapsacks hung from all points and
pegs- one, incredibly, from a loose side-peg in a ceiling cross-
beam. For a while Otik watched, attempting to prevent thievery.
Eventually he gave up.
Reger the Trader slapped the bar with a snake-embossed
foreign coin and said, "This will cover my lodgings, and could I
buy a marketing supply of that ale? In this weather it would keep
for the road-"
Otik bit the coin and rejected it, dropping it with a dull clank
|
