"Robin Hobb & Steven Brust - The Gypsy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hobb Robin)

no reason to think they were looking for him. He kept
walking.

A wooden door opened almost in his face and a
burly figure in a red plaid jacket walked away from
him. He noticed the jacket and thought. Is it cold, then?
He could see his breath, and there was a light coating
of snow on the sidewalk, so it must be. He looked at
his own clothing and saw only a very thinly woven
cotton shirt/ pale yellow with a few blue threads for
embroidery. He wore baggy blue pants of the same
material, and high doeskin boots. These should not
be enough to keep him warm. Perhaps he ought to
go inside. A sign above the door said ST. THOMAS
BAR, which meant it was a public house. The door
had opened before him, which could as easily be a
Sign as it could be a Trap or nothing at all, and the
siren, which ought not to have anything to do with
him, was getting closer. He opened the door and
stepped inside, entering another alien world, which
is what any new place is, after all, isn't it?

Cigarette smoke, an anemic blue, hung over a pool
table, entwined with a neon BUDWEISER sign, and
crept over to a long bar where a fat man in an apron
was talking with a smiling patron. The fat man's fea-
tures were not unpleasant, and his nose had been
broken at least twice; the patron hunched his shoul-
ders as if the world had been too much for him for a
long time, and he had a large scar down the side of
his neck—a knife scar.

The fat man noticed him and said, "What'll it be?"

"I ... that is, brandy."

"How d'you want it?"

"How—?"

"You all right, buddy?"

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"I think so."