"Charles Stross - Merchant princes 02 - The Hidden Family" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

it. She finished her business fast and shoved the pot back under the bed to
freeze.

"Wake up," she called softly to Brilliana. "Rise and shine! We've got a good day
ahead!"

"Oh, my head." Brill surfaced bleary-eyed and disheveled from under the quilt.
"Your hostelries aren't like this."

"Well, this one won't stay like this for long if I get my way," Miriam
commented. "My mouth tastes like something died in it. Let me get my boots on
and warm my toes up a bit."

"Hah." Brilliana's expression was pessimistic. "They let the fire run low, I'd
say." She found die chamber pot. Miriam nodded and looked away. So much for en
suite bathrooms, she thought mordantly. "You stand up, now," Brill ordered after
a minute.

"Okay. How do I look?" asked Miriam.

"Hmm. I think you will pass. Don't brush your hair until we are out of sight,
though. It's too clean to be seen in daylight, from all those marvelous soaps
everyone uses on the other side, and we don't want to attract attention. Humph.
So what shall we do today, my lady?"

"Well, I think we'll start by eating breakfast and paying die nice man." Nice
was not an adjective Miriam would normally use on a hotelier like the one
lurking downstairs— back home she'd be more inclined to call the police—but
standards of personal service varied wildly in the Gruin-markt. "Let's hit the
road to Hasleholm. As soon as we're out of sight, I'm going to vanish. You
remembered your pistol?"

Brill nodded.

"Okay, then you're set up. It should just be a quiet day's walk for you. If you
run into trouble, first try to get off the road, then shoot—I don't want you
taking any chances, even

if there isn't much of a bandit problem around these parts in winter. Luckily
you're more heavily armed than anyone you could possibly meet except a Clan
caravan."

"Right." Brill nodded uncertainly. "You're sure that strange contraption will
work?"

Miriam nodded. "Trust me."

Breakfast below consisted of two chipped wooden bowls of oatmeal porridge,
salted, eaten in the kitchen under the watchful (if squinting) eyes of the
publican's wife—which made it harder for Miriam to palm her pills. She made a