Книга только для ознакомления
. "Let's be on our way. Men
riding out from Garnet will find these folk soon enough and
lay them to rest - hopefully dead with the goblins."
Rabbit let out a low bray and started into a trot, anxious
to be away from the crossroads and the smell of blood.
Matya guided the donkey down the east road, but after a
hundred paces or so she pulled hard on the reins, bringing
the wagon again to a halt.
"Now what on the face of Krynn is that?" Matya asked
herself. Something glinted brightly among the nettles and
witchgrass to the side of the road. She started to ignore it,
flick the reins, and continue on - the hour was growing late -
but curiosity got the better of her. She slid from the wagon's
bench, pushed through the weeds, and headed toward the
glimmer she had seen. The nettles scratched at her ankles,
but in a moment Matya forgot the sting.
"Why, 'tis a knight 1" she gasped aloud, staring at the
man who lay, unmoving, in the weeds at her feet.
The man was clad in armor of beaten steel, but his
visage was more that of a shiftless vagabond than a noble
knight. His eyes were deeply set, his features thin and
careworn, and the mouse-brown moustache that drooped
over his mouth was coarse and scraggly.
Whether he was, in truth, a knight or a looter in stolen
armor, it didn't much matter now, Matya thought. His hair
was matted with blood, and his skin was ashen with the
pallor of death. She said the familiar words to appease the
spirit of the dead, then knelt beside the corpse
|
