Книга только для ознакомления
.
"Enough to pay what you owe me, and maybe for this
trip as well - IF the staff is worth that much," Martin added
shrewdly.
"Oh, it's worth ten times the trash you sell in this place,"
vowed the dwarf. "I got it from an elven wizard!"
If the hermit's vision had been sharper, he might have
recognized the immediate frown on the shop keeper's face
as a look of disbelief.
"There aren't any elves in Hylar! No elf I've ever met
would have anything to do with a dwarf!"
"There's one who would, all right, and he lives in my
cave!" Lodston retorted defiantly. The hermit pulled a small
keg of pickled fish closer to the fireplace and sat on it. He
clutched the magical staff in front of him as if he were
guarding it from the merchant's covetous gaze. Then he
reached into a pocket and handed Martin a crumpled piece
of parchment.
"He wrote down what we need. You fetch all those
things while I rest my legs, and I'll tell you the strangest tale
you'll ever hear in this ugly town of simpletons."
Milo Martin's frown deepened as he grabbed the list
from the hermit's filthy fingers. He expected to see a barely
literate scrawl, and was astonished when he recognized the
fine penmanship of a scholar on the crude parchment
|
