"Raymond E. Feist - Serpentwar 1 - Shadow of a Dark Queen2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

from the snakes' deceit on the distant world the
Pantathians called Midkemia.




one
Challenge


Eric wiped his hands on his apron. He was doing little
real work since finishing his morning chores, merely
banking the fire so he would not have to restart a cold
forge should there be new work later in the day. He
considered that unlikely, as everyone in the town would
be lingering in the square after the Baron's arrival, but
horses were perverse creatures who threw shoes at the
least opportune moment, and wagons broke down at
the height of inconvenience. Or so his five years of assisting
the blacksmith had taught him. He glanced at where
Tyndal lay sleeping, his arm wrapped lovingly around a
jug of harsh brandy. He had begun drinking just after
breakfast, 'hoisting a few to the Baron's health,' he
claimed. He had fallen asleep sometime in the last hour
while Erik finished the smith's work for him. Fortunately,
there was little the boy couldn't do, he being large
for his age and an old hand at compensating for the
smith's shortcomings.
As Erik finished covering the coals with ashes, he could
hear his mother calling from the kitchen. He ignored her
demand that he hurry; there was more than enough
time. There was no need to rush: the Baron would not
have reached the edge of the town yet. The trumpet
announced his approach, not his arrival.
Erik rarely considered his appearance, but he knew
today was going to thrust him into the forefront of
Public scrutiny, and he felt he should attempt to look
respectable. With that thought, he paused to remove his
apron, carefully hung it on a peg, then plunged his arms
into a nearby bucket of water. Rubbing furiously, he
removed most of the black soot and dirt, then splashed
water on his face. Grabbing a large clean cloth off a pile of
rags used for polishing steel, he dried himself, removing
what the water hadn't through friction.
in the dancing surface of the water barrel he considered
his broken reflection: a pair of intense blue eyes under a
deep brow, a high forehead from which shoulder-length
blond hair swept back. No one today would doubt that he
was his father's son. His nose was more his mother's, but
his jaw and the broad grin that came when he smiled were