Книга только для ознакомления
. Then the minotaur shrugged and
slapped William on the shoulder.
"Every dog has its day," Harum said. "Old Tom should have
known better. I told him to mind his own business, keep sewing,
and not get ambitious with his thinking. But, my friends, let us
slake our thirst and forget about having those reptiles in town. And
some-day we will throw them over, and you, William, will be our
leader." He laughed.
Accompanied by Harum, William and Sintk walked gloomily
into the murkiness of the Missionary's Downfall. The bar was
crowded with dwarves, humans, hobgoblins, and a group of hard-
looking draconians drinking in the back. Several half-elves were
noisily testing their mental prowess with a game of riddles. A
drunken hobgoblin lay passed out beside his chair. Two bartenders
hurried to keep up with requests for drinks. Harum leaned against
the end of the bar. He motioned to a bartender, who hastened over
with three tankards of ale.
William and Sintk were never completely at ease in the minotaur's
establishment. The tavern's reputation for brawls and free-for-all
fights was widely known. Bystanders and onlookers were often
drawn into me-lees that ended in what were known as "Harum's
wall-bouncing parties." Harum enforced a rule that weapons had to
be checked at the door, but it was not completely effective when
applied against magic-users and the lowest criminal element.
In addition to fights, the Missionary's Downfall was also widely
known for a painting on the ceiling
|
