"Dan Parkinson. The Gates of Thorbardin ("DragonLance Saga Heroes II" #2) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

skipped away from it, then ducked as a cat on the other
side tried to knock off his head. He spun, lost his bal-
ance, and sprawled, pellets of black gravel sheeting
ahead of him. The cats there dodged aside, retreating.
Chane got to his knees and scraped at the gravel with his
hand. The gravel was spread evenly over a smooth sur-
face, as though it had been swept. It was only inches
deep, with bare dirt below. He gathered a handful of
gravel and tossed it toward a cat. The cat veered aside, as
though panicked.
"They don't like this stuff," Chane muttered. "I think
they're afraid of it."
Chess had come back to watch. "Well, then, that's

easy," he said. "All we need to do is move the road."
"Move it how?" Chanc's brows lowered in disgust.
"I don't know," Chess shrugged. "You're a dwarf.
You're supposed to know about things like moving
gravel. How would you do it?"
"If I wanted to, I'd use a skid. Something flat and
heavy to drag it from one place to another. But we don't
have a skid."
"Then maybe you could build one," Chess suggested.
"There are all sorts of things around here to use."
Chane sighed, looking off into the forest beyond the
path. Yes, there were plenty of materials, readily availa-
ble. There also were plenty of giant black cats just itching
for one of them to step off the path and within reach.
"Sure," he said. "That deadfall log over there could be a
dragsled, with vines attached. But it's over there, not
here."
"Then go get it," the kender said. "Just a minute,
though. I'll see if I can give you a little space." Without
hesitating, he stepped to the edge of the path, lifted his
staff and brought it down between the ears of a cat.
While that one still was recoiling, Chess thumped two
more of them, prodded a fourth one in the ribs, then
moved away along the path, his feet flying, swerving on
and off of the carpet of black gravel. All of the cats on
that side bounded after him, snarling and spitting.
"Hurry'" he shouted.
For a moment, Chane stood stunned, staring after the
departing chase. "Rust and tarnish!" he muttered. "That
kender is crazy." Then he hurried off the path to gather
materials for a dragsled skid. "I don't know why I'm do-
ing this," he grumped as he dragged things back to safety.
"It wasn't my idea to change the road. It was his."
Still, when the kender reappeared at the curve in the
path, strolling along with a pack of angry cats pacing
him, Chane was already binding vines to a log and