"Mary Kirchoff. Kendermore ("Dragonlance Preludes I" #2) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

behind her, carefully squeezing around her bulk so as not to intrude
on her magnificence. His sunbleached hair looked like straw that had
been cut with a bowl around his head. His nose was hawkish and strong,
as was his tall, sinewy frame. He was dressed, oddly, in gray, quilted
cotton pants and a long-sleeved, padded shirt of a type commonly worn
as protection under chain mail. His pants, obviously past their prime,
weretorn at the seams and faded. The young man's wrists dangled more
than an inch below the cuffs.

"Do stop calling me ma'am," she chided him goodnaturedly. "You
make me feel so old. And let me assure you," she continued, giving him
a seductive wink, "I'm not that old yet!"

The young man named Woodrow blushed furiously.

"Yes, ma'am," he gulped.

She looked at him for a long moment and touched his cheek
briefly. "So young... but I like them young...." She looked away
abruptly and peered into the depths of the inn, spotting Otik behind
the bar in his apron. "Yoo-hoo!" she called, fluttering her hands in
his direction. His eyes transfixed, Otik scurried to her side. "A man
so important-looking and dignified as you must be the barkeep," she
purred.

Otik's stout body jiggled to a stop, and he grinned like a
lovesick fool. "Uh, yes, I guess I am. Can I be of some assistance? A
room, perhaps? Dinner? Our food is the best in Solace - all of
southern Ansalon!" he blathered. "I'm sure it is," she said smoothly,
"but perhaps later. Actually, I'm looking for someone. A kender named
Tasslehoff Burrfoot. I was told I might find him here."

The three companions had been watching the whole display. At the
sound of his name, Tasslehoff jumped ex citedly to his feet and raced
up to her. "That's me! I'm Tasslehoff Burrfoot! Did I win something?
Are you here to give me my prize?" He paused for a new thought. "Or
did I lose something? Did you lose something?"

"You could say that," the voluptuous dwarf said, running her
gaze over his childlike form. "Can't say I understand what all the
fuss is about," she muttered mysteriously, then latched her
surprisingly strong fingers around his bony wrist.

"You'll have to come with me now, and I'm in a bit of a hurry,"
she said, stepping toward the door. Not quite sure what was happening,
Tasslehoff draped behind her like dead weight. He dug his heels into
the floor. "Well, come along," she chided, "I haven't got all year."
With that she tugged him toward the door.

"Wait a minute!" he blurted. "Who are you? Where are you trying