"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 4 - Book of Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

speech, that without consciously intending to, he had drawn his sword and was
flourishing it about.
The little group of humans had clustered together and backed away from
him a step or two, toward the inn. The spokesman looked back at his companions
for support and, finding little, said nothing further.
His anger spent, Garth returned his sword to its scabbard and added,
"But first, I have not eaten recently and would prefer not to face death on an
empty stomach. Is this building whence you all came an inn, where an overman
can break his fast?"
The spokesman reluctantly admitted that it was.
The inn was called the Sword and Chalice, though its signboard had
fallen years ago and never been replaced. Garth had a goat sent out to his
warbeast while he himself consumed a hearty meal of roast beef, carrots, and
ale. He ate surrounded by a ring of wary villagers, silently watching his
every move. He steadfastly ignored their presence and made a point of paying
no attention to their comings and goings.
He paused in the midst of his meal at the sound of women screaming in
the plaza, but a quick glance out the door reassured him. The screams were in
response to the warbeast's eating habits. Koros had killed the goat with a
single blow of its paw and immediately devoured it, hair, hooves, and all,
though the warbeast spat out the horns and larger bones. Those villagers who
happened to be watching had been horrified to see a living animal reduced so
quickly to a spatter of blood and a few scraps.
When Garth had eaten his fill, he rose, tossed a gold coin on the table,
and walked back out into the plaza. The circle of villagers parted before him,
then coalesced into a single mass and followed him out-all save the innkeeper.
He had not expected to be paid, and took a moment to hide the coin before
joining his fellows.
Half a dozen villagers were watching in fascinated revulsion as Koros
licked the blood from its paws. They were maintaining a safe distance, Garth
noted; he was pleased by that. It showed that they respected the beast's
power.
"Whose goat was it?" he demanded loudly.
A woman timidly raised a hand in an affirmative gesture. He tossed her
another of his gold coins, which she caught deftly and quickly pocketed.
A boy at her side whispered something and was hushed. Garth noticed men
and women staring at him, at the warbeast, and at the broadsword on his hip
and the battle-axe slung on the saddle. He looked around, but the spokesman
was nowhere in sight. Choosing a man at random, he remarked, "I take it you
see few warriors around here and fewer overmen."
 The man gaped at him, then gathered enough wit to reply. "Yes, my lord.
Very few. The dragon keeps them away. No overmen, ever."
"I would think that many would come to try their skill at
dragon-slaying."
His unhappy respondent glanced to either side, but saw no sign that any
of his townspeople were willing to take over the burden of the conversation.
"No, my lord," he replied, "not anymore. Long ago there were some, but
the dragon killed them all, and after a time they stopped coming. There were
never overmen, though; only the men of the Baron of Sland, or roving
mercenaries and adventurers."