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

"Greetings," Garth said. "I hope I did not wake you."
"What? Oh, no; I was just eating my breakfast. Hadn't had time to open
the shop yet." He blinked again and then said anxiously, "I heard about your
fight with the dragon. I hope you didn't hurt it too much; I'm not sure
whether I could fix any serious damage. It's mostly magic, you know, and magic
is tricky stuff. I'm no wizard; I don't usually know how what I do works. I
just build things and they work-or sometimes they don't. Did you do it much
harm?"
"No," Garth replied. "I pried a few scales from its back and I might
have scratched the belly a little. I think that hurt my sword more than it
hurt the dragon-or maybe the blade was dulled when I dropped it." He had
retrieved the weapon before returning to the village; it had not been bent,
fortunately, but part of one edge, from the tip halfway to the hilt, had been
ruined.
"What about yourself? Were you hurt?"
"No. My warbeast's tail was singed, I'm afraid, and it seems to have
been bruised here and there."
"Oh, I am sorry!" The man stared past the overman at the beast, his face
radiating sympathy.
Garth decided that it was time he got to the point. "I came for the
gull," he said.
"Oh, of course!" the toymaker exclaimed. "Just a moment!" He vanished
back into the shop, then emerged a few seconds later holding the metal bird.
Garth accepted it, paid out the agreed-upon price of half a dozen silver
coins, and placed it delicately on the saddle.
"You'll need the key," the old man reminded him.
Garth turned back and held out his hand; the toymaker dropped the silver
key onto his palm, and he closed both thumbs over it. "Thank you," he said as
he dropped it in his purse.
"Take good care of it," the man said. "It's one of my finer pieces."
"It is indeed," Garth agreed, gazing at the gleaming clockwork gull.
"But not your finest," he added, with a nod to the west.
The toymaker smiled. "No, it's not my finest, but my very best is not
for sale." He watched as Garth seated himself in the saddle, the copper bird
perched before him, and gave a command to his mount.
Koros turned and headed back through the village, its smooth, silent
progress carrying it and its master quickly northward out of Orgul.
That steady stride seemed effortless, and the warbeast could keep it up
for hours on end, perhaps days on end; Garth was continually impressed by the
creature's incredible power and stamina.
It took them the remainder of that day and the following night to reach
the northern edge of the Barony of Sland, moving along the foothills east of
the mountains that formed Eramma's western border. Garth made camp atop a
ridge overlooking the desolate site of a moderately recent battle.
His brief stay in Orgul had put him in a state of mild euphoria. He had
not fought and slain a monster, but instead had found that his real task, that
of freeing people from the menace that beset them, had been accomplished long
before by the threatened people themselves. That was heartening; only rarely
in his long life had he seen much evidence of human competence. Even among his
own species, it often seemed that the average mortal had no more ambition or