Книга только для ознакомления
.
Next Flint had ordered the rebuilding of the hole in the
wall to discourage any further attacks by Pitrick, piling
rocks of all sizes before it. Another crew was assigned the
grim task of dismembering the beast, since it was far too
large to remove intact from Mudhole's narrow egress.
After he'd initiated these programs, Flint had returned,
exhausted, to the Thrown Room, where Perian put salve
and a bandage over a magic-inflicted burn on Flint's arm.
They were both too wound up to sleep.
Sitting on the edge of the moss bed now, hunched over a
small table, quill in hand, Perian nodded her copper head
emphatically in answer to Flint's question. "Pitrick is the
most insanely cruel and powerful dwarf I've ever known.
Why, once I saw him - never mind," she amended, shaking
away the story when she noted Flint's preoccupied look.
The hill dwarf smote his open palm angrily. "Blast my
wicked temper! I never should have told him Hillhome
knew anything about the weapons or Aylmar. It was a lie
anyway!" He kicked the wall with the toe of his boot.
Perian shook her head. "You can't blame yourself for Pit-
rick's villainy! He's always hated hill dwarves - it was inevi-
table that his hatred would someday be turned against
Hillhome
|
