"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 10 - The Black Raven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

cursed father had let me marry Raena, back before her father did betroth her
elsewhere, none of this trouble would have fallen upon us.'
Admi nodded, considering.
'True spoken,' Admi said at last. 'He did think her beneath you -ah. Here he
Frie.'
The stocky blacksmith opened the door, then stood half in and half out while
he looked over the warding.
'No use in discussing your woman in front of him,' Admi whispered.
'I know,' Verrarc said, and as softly. 'It be his wife, she did always hate my
Raena.'
Admi raised one eyebrow, then forced out a bland smile. Frie had shut the
door; he strolled over, wrapped in a thick grey cloak with his ceremonial
scarlet draped on top. His thick dark moustache glittered with frozen breath.
'Good morrow, Frie,' Admi said.
'And to you both.' Frie sat down across the table. 'I did stop at old Hennis's
house, and he be too ill to come out in this cold, or so his servants did tell
me.'
'Huh!' Admi snorted. 'I'll wager I know what does sicken him. He does hate to
hold his tongue and smile when Werda talks of the gods and spirits.'
'Can't understand the man,' Frie said. 'Cursed obvious, it is, that the world
be full of gods and spirits. Makes you wonder, it does, if his long years be
muddling his mind.'
'Weil, now,' Verrarc put in, 'he does know the city laws off by heart still.
His mind be sound enough on those matters.'
'True enough,' Admi said. 'Now, where be Burra? Late, no doubt, as always.'
Frie grunted his agreement and wiped the melting frost from his moustache with
the back of a soot-stained hand.
'I'd hoped for a little chat among us before the Spirit Talker arrived,' Admi
went on. 'Which we'll not have if he doesn't get himself here soon. I'd best
have a private word with him. If he takes not his duty to the town seriously,
well, then, there are others who long for a council seat.'
Not long after Burra did arrive, a skinny man with yellow hair, not much older
than Verrarc and like him, a merchant who traded in the east. The councilmen
barely had a chance at two private words, however, before Werda opened the
door and strode in. Her apprentice followed with her arms full of bundled
things. The Spirit Talker had bound her grey hair up into braids coiled round
her head, and she wore the white cloak that normally she kept for ceremonial
occasions. Without waiting to be asked, she pulled out a chair and sat down
with her back to the fire. Athra laid her bundles down on the table, then
stood behind her master's chair.
'I see that Hennis, he deigns not to join us,' Werda said.
'Er, just so,' Admi said. 'His servants did say that he be somewhat ill.'
'Huh.' Werda rolled her eyes. 'It be a foolish thing to deny the power of the
gods. He does get his blasphemies from the Mountain Folk, no doubt. They do
mock the spirits, calling them but idle fancies.'
'Er, mayhap,' Admi said, 'but no matter. There be four of us here in
attendance upon the council, enough to make our decidings official.' He
paused, glancing around the table. 'Now, then, by the power invested in me as
Chief Speaker, I do open this meeting, come together to discuss the death of
Demet, the weaver's second son. Yesterday morn Verrarc, chief officer of the