"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 6 - The Spell of the Black Dagger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

her from springing it within seconds. Whoever owned this house had not wasted
money on fancy locks and bars.

That was not necessarily a good thing, of course; sometimes a simple lock
meant other precautions had been taken—spells, guards, any number of
possibilities existed.

Tabaea saw no sign of any of them. Of course, she wasn't at all sure what to
look for to spot protective spells; nobody had taught her any of that yet.
Still, she didn't see anything unusual.

In truth, she didn't see much of anything at all. The mudroom behind the door
was even darker than the alley. She felt her way across the little room,
almost tripping over a boot scraper, and found an inner door.

That was unlocked, and the chamber beyond just as dark as the mudroom.
Reluctantly, Tabaea decided it was time to risk a little light.

She had tinder and flint and steel in her pouch, but it was dark and she was
wary of making too much sound—the house might be deserted, or it might not. It
took several tries before she had a good steady light.

When she had the tinder burning, she looked around by its flickering light for
something more permanent, and spotted a candle by the alley door. She lit
that, then blew out the tinder and tucked it away.

Candle in hand, she looked around the mudroom.

As one might expect, there was nothing of any interest. Half a dozen assorted
pairs of boots were ranged against one wall; below there was a line of hooks,
about half of which held cloaks or jackets; at the other end of the room three
heavy wooden chests took up most of the available space, but a quick glance in
each showed that they held only scarves, gloves, and other appurtenances.
She was not disappointed; this was just the mudroom, and there was plenty more
house to explore. Besides, there were plenty of people in Ethshar of the Sands
who couldn't afford gloves and scarves and coats. In any case, it wasn't as if
the winters here were so long or cold, as they were said to be in Sardiron or
the other Ethshars, that they were truly necessary. A house so rich in winter
wear would surely be rich in more marketable goods, as well.

Cautiously, moving as stealthily as she could, Tabaea opened the interior door
and peered through, candle in hand.

A smile spread across her face as she saw what lay beyond. This was more like
it.

The next room was a dining salon, and the light of her candle sparkled from
brass and gold and crystal and fine polished woods. Catlike and silent, she
slipped around the door and into the room.