"Mickey Zucker Reichert - Bifrost 03 - Dragonrank Master" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reichert Mickey Zucker)

Torben opened his mouth to speak.

Taziar dropped formality and finished in a rush. "It's not much fun spending money alone.Anyone for
dinner and drinks? I'll buy."

A tense hush followed Taziar's invitation. The Cullinsbergen waited expectantly, his hand sliding near the
sword at his hip. He could never hope to best even one of the huge warriors before him, but he knew a
display of crazed boldness might be his only means of regaining the Vikings' favor. He seized his hilt and
twisted his face into a feigned snarl of offense."Too good to drink with me?" His words rang with
challenge, yet his eyes measured the distance to the door.

Bothi growled. His sword rattled from its sheath, spinning wild highlights through the longhouse.

Taziar held his breath and his ground. He kept his expression unreadable, but sweat spangled his brow.

Hamar clapped a palm to Bothi's shoulder. "Enough. You've always preferred drinking to fighting. Don't
begrudge the little man his winnings when he's offered to spend them on us, eh?" He gave Taziar a
reassuring half smile. "Besides, Bothi, he'd probably kill you. Then you'd be embarrassed."

Hamar's logic was lost on Taziar, but it seemed to calm Bothi. Hostility vanished beneath a rush of
camaraderie. Bothi sheathed his weapon. Hamar opened the door, and the Norsemen filed through the
portal into a snow-blanketed forest of evergreens. With practiced skill, Taziar flicked a handful of gold
coins into his pocket and swept the remainder of his winnings into the pouch at his belt. From habit, he
paused to pull his cloak more tightly about the black linen shirt and britches which had become his
trademark from his days as a master thief, known as the Shadow Climber, in the southern barony of
Cullinsberg. Though less fierce than the squalls farther north, the cold winds bit at Taziar unmercifully. He
followed his companions, pulling the door closed behind them.

As Taziar wound through stands of pine, he recalled easier days among innocent Swedish barbarians to
whom kindness and honesty came as naturally as breathing. As a thief from one of the most decadent
baronies on the continent, Taziar found the barbarians' way of life a comfortable change. Yet, soon he
had become bored by its simple perfection. He had no wish to deceive trusting barbarians who were also
friends, and his keen mind seemed dulled from disuse. His body craved the rushes of elation inspired by
outwitting men and obtaining the impossible. So Taziar had traveled toNorway , seeking Astryd, the
woman he loved. She was a sorceress, forced to spend eleven months of each year, without visitors, at
the Dragonrankschool . Older, more experienced men than Taziar deemed the wizards' training grounds
impenetrable. But the immensity of the challenge served only to fuel Taziar's interest. En route to Astryd,
Taziar had passed eagerly throughScandinavia 's more civilized lands only to find that most of its citizens
were only poor farmers. Since his arrival in the town ofKiarrmar , Taziar had uncovered nothing more
exciting than a card game called g'mish.

The forest broke to a plain crusted with frost and crisscrossed by boot tracks. Less than ten strides
ahead of Taziar and his Viking companions, a rainbow rose like a column from the earth. Its multicolored
bands arched across the clearing, their farther ends obscured by distance. Highlights of red, yellow, and
blue winked like gems from the delicate lace of ice. Taziar gasped in awe."Aga'arin's fat priest! I've never
seen a rainbow end!" In the past day, he had noticed neither rain nor snow to explain its striking
magnificence. It seemed too solidly real, more like a structure than the illusion of light he knew it must be.
He crept tentatively toward it. The archway quivered in the breeze, obviously no work of man.

Kolbyr slapped his legs, speaking between low-pitched snickers."Small man, small brain." He held up a