Книга только для ознакомления
. Overnight the
square had been transformed from a jumble of timbers
into a wonderland. The bandstand, with its polished,
carved timbers and rounded roof, looked as if it had been
rooted to that spot for generations. The side toward the
spectators' bleachers was open, affording an excellent
view of the band.
Actually, 'band' was a bit of an overstatement. Seated
on the stage were two rotund dwarves in colorful, short-
sleeved shirts and black knickers with embroidered sus-
penders. The tuba player's cheeks and moustache puffed
in and out in time with the music. His face was as red as
his hair. The other dwarf, his moplike black and gray
hair and beard bobbing in time, was strapped to an in-
strument like nothing Tasslehoff had ever seen before.
Though straps supporting the instrument criss-crossed
the dwarf's broad back, his stomach was so round that
the contraption rested on it like a shelf. His stubby fin-
gers danced happily over a row of square, wooden keys,
carved alternately from white and black wood. Above
them were round, black buttons, which he would occa-
sionally push or pull. On top of all that, the instrument
was connected to a bellows which the musician had to
pump furiously the whole time he played. Its honking
tone reminded Tasslehoff of a duck in flight.
For the next hour and a half, the kender wandered
around and through the festival grounds, continuously
discovering new things of interest, such as the locations
of all the metalsmiths' booths; where and when the axe-
throwing competition would be held; the judging stand-
ards for the rock-splitting contest; which ale tents were
best; and where the tastiest dwarven stews could be pur-
chased
|
