Книга только для ознакомления
.
"I couldn't help noticing as I was fetching it up here,
sir, that it says Damaris Metwinger, the mayor's
daughter, has run away," Bigelow announced before
Trapspringer could unfold the message. "She wrote in
a note that she got tired of waiting to marry someone
she doesn't even know and that she's left for the Ruins
and other parts unknown. You're free to go, Trap-
springer, since she's welching on the marriage. Mayor
Metwinger had to either give you a mayoral pardon or
put himself or his wife in prison. Your nephew Tassle-
hoff is freed of his obligation, too, so he doesn't need
to come back either. I'm sure they'll be sending word
to his bounty hunter."
Phineas turned white and clutched at his chest.
"That's too bad," Trapspringer said. "I was looking
forward to seeing him again. Oh, well, our paths will
cross eventually."
"Too bad about the marriage contract," the gardener
said absently, dirt falling in small clumps from the sap-
ling's roots as he plodded through the archways that
led to the steps outside. "Kids these days have no re-
spect for rules. I don't suppose the mayor will be too
keen on sending a bounty hunter after his own daugh-
ter, though." Bigelow disappeared through the last
archway, and his words became indistinct mutterings.
But Phineas's mind was reeling, an idea, desperate
and dangerous, forming in his brain. Find Damaris
and haul her back and Tasslehoff will still have to
return -- bringing the map with him. Phineas had no
idea where Tasslehoff might be, but Damaris had said
she was going to the Ruins, a favorite scavenging and
picnic spot among the kender
|
