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

When they entered the kitchen, Ryl was stirring a large pot of something dark and spicy-smelling.
She gave them each a bowl of it and sent them back to the taproom to eat, pointedly ignoring
Flindaran's attempts to strike up a conversation.
The taproom smelled of beer, onions, and smoke. Several of the rough-hewn stables were already
occupied. A tall blonde girl moved among them, serving beer and stew with bored efficiency. Most
of the customers were clearly locals, but a wiry, white-haired man in a faded green leather
uniform caught Emereck's attention. He nudged Flindaran and pointed him out.
"So?" Flindaran said after glancing toward the corner table where the man was sitting.
"So what's a Cilhar doing in a place like this?"
"Spending the night, the same as we are."
"I didn't think Cilhar traveled much on the east side
8 Patricia C Wrede
of the Mountains of Morravik." Emereck studied the man speculatively. "I wonder if he knows any of
the Witrian song cycle."
"The what?"
"The Witrian song cycle. It's a series of Cilhar songs based on the Two Century War. I heard part
of it from a Cilhar woman who stopped at the Guildhall last summer, and I've been looking for a
chance to learn the rest ever since." Emereck set his bowl on an empty table and paused
uncertainty.
"You're not thinking of asking him about it, are you?" Flindaran demanded.
"Why not? I may not get a chance like this again.**
"Most people don't have your passion for obscure old songs. He's probably never heard of it."
Emereck started to reply, then paused. "What's worrying you? All I wanted to do was ask a few
questions."
"I don't think it's a good idea to bother a Cilhar," Flindaran said with an uneasy shrug. "They
like privacy, and it's not exactly healthy to argue with one of them."
"I see." Emereck felt a sudden perverse desire to walk over and strike up a conversation with the
Cilhar for no other reason than to annoy Flindaran. He suppressed the impulse; irritating
Flindaran did not seem a sufficient reason for ignoring his advice. He glanced speculatively at
the Cilhar as he seated himself at the table. Perhaps he could persuade Ryl to introduce him to
the man before they left. That ought to ease Flindaran's objections. Emereck shoved the matter to
the back of his mind and began eating.
The stew was excellent, and they finished it quickly. Emereck accepted a refill from the blonde
girl, but Flindaran, after a moment of indecision, shook his head. As the girl left, Emereck
looked at him curiously. "Something wrong with your appetite?"
"Not at all," Flindaran replied, grinning. He picked up the empty bowl and balanced it on his
finger, then flipped it into the air and caught it in his other hand.
THE HARP OF IMACH THYSSEL 9
"But you don't expect me to miss an opportunity like this, do you?"
"Opportunity?"
"I'm going to get my refill in the kitchen. Didn't you hear Ryl say we could?"
"Yes, but I got the distinct impression that she was interested mainly in getting you out of the
kitchen at the time. And the stew's the same in both places."
"It's not the stew I'm after, idiot. I want to talk to Ryl."
Emereck stared at him, then shook his head. "Why don't you talk to that one instead?" he said,
nodding at the blonde serving girl. "She's at least as pretty as Ryl is, and probably a lot more
approachable."
"Ryl's a challenge." Flindaran paused and looked from Emereck to the blonde girl. "Why don't you—"
"No."
Flindaran looked at him and shrugged. "All right, then. See you later."