Книга только для ознакомления
.
Quinby Cull had given his fellow kender strict
instructions to remain perfectly quiet. They knew that to do
otherwise might mean death and the failure of their
mission. And failure meant the end of Spinner Kenro.
Nonetheless, Quinby heard little shouts of surprise,
followed by titters and giggles, as his fellow kender
constantly poked each other with their hoopaks, swords,
and lances, curious to see if the weapons were in good
working order.
Not far from the Paw's Mark Inn, in a hidden ravine dug
deep into a hillside near the prison, Vigre Arch complained
bitterly about the cold wind - and that wasn't all he grumped
about. "How come we're out here?" he mumbled angrily.
"Barsh and his gnomes are warm inside that barn, and
Quinby and his kender are drinking and having a fine old
time in the Paw's Mark Inn. It isn't fair! Maybe," he
muttered, "we ought to just go home and get some sleep
and forget this nonsense."
But Vigre didn't utter any such orders. He was proud of his
people that night. And he was proud of himself. If their plan
to free Spinner Kenro failed, Vigre vowed that it wasn't
going to be because the dwarves didn't do their part.
It seemed, somehow, that the stars were moving more
swiftly across the sky than usual
|