"Patricia C. Wrede - Lyra Universe 3 - The Harp Of Imach Thys" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wrede Patricia C)

"I'd be careful there, if I were you," Emereck said thoughtfully. "She certainly isn't what I'd
expect to find in a village like this."
"Weren't you listening? She's not from this village."
6 Patricia C. Wrede
"She also speaks as if she's well-born."
"She's probably from Kith Alunel; everyone there sounds like a noble or a minstrel or something."
"It's possible. But—"
"Oh, pack it up!" Flindaran poked his head around the end of the stall Emereck was working on and
scowled at him. "You know, what you need is a girl of your own to worry about, instead of picking
on mine."
"Don't start that again! All right, I'll quit annoying you. But I still wish I knew why Ryl didn't
want us to sing."
"Is that what's bothering you? You ought to be glad I won't be ruining your reputation. Watch
where you're stepping!"
Emereck glanced down and sidestepped. "It's not my reputation that's worrying me at the moment,
it's Ryl. Innkeepers are usually happy to have a minstrel stay the night, but she wasn't even
interested."
"Maybe she's just being careful about how she runs her friend's inn."
"Maybe." Emereck did not believe it, but he could think of no argument that would convince
Flindaran. Particularly when Flindaran was clearly determined not to be convinced; Emereck had
caught the note of stubbornness in his voice. He shook his head and said lightly, "And maybe she
doesn't like minstrels. Where would that leave your plans for tonight?"
"Ryl may think she dislikes minstrels," Flindaran said with dignity, "but I intend to convince her
otherwise."
"Oh? How?"
"Good looks and irresistible charm, of course."
"Is that what you tried on that farmer's daughter in Harmalla? The one who blacked your eye?"
"I'm sure Ryl has far more discriminating taste. You realize, of course, what a favor I'll be
doing the Minstrel's Guild?"
"I'll make sure to let the Master Singer in Ciaron know as soon as we get back."
"Thank you. No doubt the Guild will find a way to return the kindness."
THE HARP OF IMACH THYSSEL 7
"Oh, if that's all you're worried about, Til write you a ballad," Emereck said, bowing.
"You already owe me four ballads and a drinking song, and I haven't seen any of them yet,"
Flindaran said, unimpressed. "How long do I have to wait?"
"Quality takes time. But if you're in a hurry, I suppose I could dash off a third-rate epic poem
or a few scurrilous couplets."
"What I'm in a hurry for right now is dinner," Flindaran said. "So pick your feet up! I'm ahead of
you already, and I don't intend to do all the work."
The sun was setting when they finally finished in the stable and hauled their packs to the kitchen
where Ryl awaited them. She studied them briefly with the same cool appraisal she had given them
when they arrived, then led them to a room on the upper floor. The room was large, with a window
overlooking the lake, and to Emereck's surprise, a tub of steaming water was waiting for them to
wash off the dust and stable smells. By the time they descended the stairs once more, Emereck was
willing to admit even to Flindaran that their hostess did not seem to dislike minstrels.


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