Книга только для ознакомления
.
"I would have known what to do to the little bastard,"
she said, and my insides went cold when she said it. "I
would have spared us all this torment. But because of you
and that kender, I lost everything I ever owned. It's only
right that you should suffer as I have, just exactly as I
have."
I slowly moved around the door frame. No one was by
the door, but I could look into the wall mirror nearby and
see part of Goodwife Filster's back and one of her arms. She
was holding a torch in one hand and had a meat-cutting
knife stuck in her belt. That was bad enough, but, being so
close to the door, I could also smell something like lamp oil,
only it couldn't have been - or so I thought - because Ark
doesn't own any oil lamps, because he says the local oil
burns too fast and smells awful, like burned fish, which is
what it comes from (we call them greasegills).
Of course, my next thought was that Goodwife Filster had
brought her own lamp oil, and that she meant what she said
about Ark suffering exactly as she had, and suddenly all I
could think about was my growing up in the shoe shop and
how it was the only home I had ever known and how Ark
and I, and later Widow Muffin, had always had so much fun
here. I realized I had no idea how much lamp oil Goodwife
Filster had brought in with her, but it smelled like enough to
burn up my memories and the shoe shop and maybe some
people with it.
I stopped listening then so I'd have a chance to think.
Think first, Ark always tells me, even if it's just for a
moment
|
