"01 - Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham 1.0.palmdoc.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Starlight And Shadows)

pages. Keeping this ledger had been her responsibility before she'd been sent
off to the Academy, and no one in the city knew more about breeding rothe than
she did. Perhaps no one else shared her enthusiasm for the subject, but the drow
certainly enjoyed the fine meat, cheeses, and wool her expertise produced!
One glance at the current page dampened both her pride and her enthusiasm. In
her years of absence, the records had been written in a small, faint hand.
Shakti swore, squinting her eyes into slits in an attempt to read the careless
writing. Her mood did not improve as she read.
While she had been exiled to Arach-Tinilith, studying for the priestesshood and
kowtowing to the Academy's mistresses, the herd had been sadly neglected. The
rothe were highly specialized for life on the island, and carefully supervised
breeding was essential.
Muttering curses, Shakti leafed to the back of the book, where the records of
the slave stock were kept. These were considerably less detailed; in Shakti's
opinion, the goblins could do whatever they liked provided their efforts
produced enough new slaves. But according to the records, the birth rate among
the usually fecund goblins was also dangerously low. This Shakti could not
afford. House Hunzrin could acquire more slaves by purchase or capture, but such
things took time and money.
"How many goblins remain?" Shakti asked tiredly as she massaged her aching
temples.
"About forty," responded the overseer.
Shakti's head jerked up as if pulled by a string. "That's all? Herders or
breeders?"
"About half and half, but all of the goblins have been herding. To help keep
order, the slaves have all been moved into the main hut."
That was more bad news, for it meant the goblins lacked both the time and the
privacy needed to procreate. Not that goblins required much of either, Shakti
noted with distaste as she turned back to the ledger. Once again, she cursed the
fate that had taken her away from the work she loved. At least the war had
accomplished one thing: the rules that kept students sequestered at the Academy
had been relaxed, for many of the young fighters, wizards, and priestesses were
needed at home. The students had unprecedented freedom to come and go, and
permission to leave was not difficult to obtain from the distracted masters and
matrons.
At that moment a drow male clad in the rough clothes of a common laborer burst
into the room. He slammed the heavy door behind him and bolted it in place.
The goblins are revolting!" he cried.
The voice was familiar to Shakti; it belonged to a handsome drone who provided
her with an occasional dalliance. She recognized the tone: a gratifying mixture
of fear and disbelief. The faint, coppery smell of his blood drifted toward her.
She was familiar with that, too. But these pleasant memories registered only on
the edges of Shakti's thoughts; her concern was with the herd and her
nearsighted eyes remained fixed on the page. "Yes, they certainly are," she
agreed absently.
The male fell back a step, his jaw slack with astonishment. He well knew that
Shakti Hunzrin was capable of a good many things, but humor was simply not among
them. Fbr a moment even the shock of the goblin uprising paled. Yet a second
look at Shakti's peevish, squinting countenance convinced the drow of his error.
He brushed aside his momentary surprise and strode toward the desk. He thrust