"S. M. Stirling - Armor Propre" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stirling S. M)

hundred gis more." Her face wore a guilty expression, but her hand stroked yearningly dow
the glossy armor.

Feric examined her, his lips pursed, eyes narrowed in judgement, highly flattered that sh
seek his counsel about something like this. Teri knew he'd no understanding of armor or its
quality. He'd told her as much when she expressed the need for a new breastplate before fa
the Duke's forces in battle. He appreciated most of all her willingness to let it go, much as s
obviously wanted it, if he agreed they couldn't afford it.

And it was too extravagant, well above the limit they'd set.

Teasing her, he stretched out the moment, examining the beautifully made armor she wor
was enamelled black, with lapped tassets falling to the sides, the whole surface heavily
scrolled with exquisite gold tracery.

He liked it. The dramatic color set off her red-gold hair and handsome face.

"Well, my love," he watched her color slightly at the endearment, "if this can be had for
only a hundred gis more I think you should take it."

Terion laughed and clapped battle scarred hands delightedly.

Brunea leaned over, pinched Feric's cheek and growled, "You're a prize, you are. Even
y'are a wizardling." She winked at Teri. "I'll go hunt up Surelle."

Feric rubbed his cheek.

"Could you ask her to stop doing that?" he whispered. "I'll be able to whistle with my mo
closed if she keeps it up!"

Teri just grinned at him.

"Thank you," she said simply, her eyes glowing with affection. Then with enthusiasm,
"Brunea's right, you know. This will help my career. It speaks of confidence and that'll
automatically win a bit more respect."

"Because you look so well?" Feric asked, his eyes admiring.
 Terion laughed. "Because it says I can hold my own against anybody. Mercenaries make
their kit from armor won on the field, so half the young hot-heads out there will be after me
wasps after honey. The fact I'd dare to wear something like this says I think I'm good enoug
keep it." She examined her reflection. "Brunea's right, I'm ready to make that statement."

Terion failed to notice Feric's dawning horror.

"You mean," he asked, appalled, "you'll be in more danger because of this?"

"Love," she said and threw a muscular arm around his slim shoulders, "in this business,
more than in any other, timidity doesn't pay. I think that what I stand to gain more than
outweighs the added risk." She smiled at his worried expression. "Trust me, Feric, I'll prof
from this." She looked at herself once more and frowned. "The rest of my kit won't match,"