"04 - Sea of Swords - R A Salvatore 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Paths Of Darkness)

rough-and-tumble dwarves were obviously again wearing off on her.
Drizzt turned his head a bit toward the woman, as well, his right eye barely a
couple of inches from Catti-brie's. He saw the sparkle there—it was
unmistakable—a look of contentment and happiness only now returning in the
months since Wulfgar had left them, a look that seemed, in fact, even more
intense than ever before.
Drizzt laughed and looked back up at the sky. “Your fish got away,” he
announced, for the wind had blown the thin line away from the larger shape,
“It is a fish,” Catti-brie insisted petulantly—or at least, the woman made it
sound as if she was being petulant.
Smiling, Drizzt didn't pursue the argument.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Ye durn fool little one!” Bruenor Battlehammer grumbled and growled, spittle
flying as his frustration increased. The dwarf stopped and stamped his hard boot
ferociously on the ground, then smacked his one-horned helmet onto his head, his
thick orange hair flying wildly from beneath the brim of the battered helm. “I'm
here thinkin' I got a friend on the council, and there ye go, letting Kemp o'
Targos go and spout the price without even a fight!”
Regis the halfling, thinner than he had been in years and favoring one arm from
a ghastly wound he'd received on his last adventure with his friends, just
shrugged and replied, “Kemp of Targos speaks only of the price of the ore for
the fishermen.”
“And the fishermen buy a considerable portion of the ore!” Bruenor roared.
“Why'd I put ye back on the council, Rumble-belly, if ye ain't to be making me
life any easier?”
Regis gave a little smile at the tirade. He thought to remind Bruenor that the
dwarf hadn't put him back on the council, that the folk of Lonelywood, needing a
new representative since the last one had wound up in the belly of a yeti, had
begged him to go, but he wisely kept the notion to himself.
“Fishermen,” the dwarf said, and he spat on the ground in front of Regis's
hairy, unshod feet.
Again, the halfling merely smiled and sidestepped the mark. He knew Bruenor was
more bellow than bite, and knew, too, that the dwarf would let this matter drop
soon enough—as soon as the next crisis rolled down the road. Ever had Bruenor
Battle-hammer been an excitable one.
The dwarf was still grumbling when the pair rounded a bend in the path to come
in full view of Drizzt and Catti-brie, still sit­ting on the mossy bank, lost in
their cloud-dreams and just enjoying each other's company. Regis sucked in his
breath, thinking Bruenor might explode at the sight of his beloved adopted
daughter in so intimate a position with Drizzt—or with anyone, for that
matter—but Bruenor just shook his hairy head and stormed off the other way.
“Durned fool elf,” he was saying when Regis caught up to him. “Will ye just kiss
the girl and be done with it?”
Regis's smile nearly took in his ears. “How do you know that he has not?” he
remarked, for no better reason than to see the dwarfs cheeks turn as fiery red
as his hair and beard.
And of course, Regis was quick to skitter far out of Bruenor's deadly grasp.
The dwarf just put his head down, muttering curses and stomping along. Regis