Книга только для ознакомления
." Perian giggled behind her
hand, and Flint elbowed her in the ribs. He moved away to
pace before them, arms linked behind his back, his eyes on
the ground. "That is why I've decided to teach you a very
special, sacred, royal dwarven song." A hush fell over the
crowd of assembled Aghar.
"King?"
Flint looked up in irritation to see Nomscul waving his
hand above his head.
"We know good song," the shaman said proudly.
Nods of agreement fluttered through the crowd. Before
Flint could stop them, the gully dwarves launched into a
raucous tune.
Big yellow sun,
No spit in eye,
Die all day,
Leafs up in the sky asleep,
Burning bugs,
Gray, gray, gray,
Sleep, old man,
and the trees
call us for eats.
The leafs are on fire,
but so what,
they all gone by snowtime.
"No, no, NO!" Flint roared above their cacophony. He
slapped his palm with a thin stick. Eventually their song
ground to a halt. "I want you to hear a real song. The Dwar-
ven Marching Song is part of your heritage as dwarves.
Now, listen up
|
