JК
The Magehound :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 64 из 216Like fear, inattention seemed todraw predators as blood in the water summoned sharks. From the corner of her eye, Tzigone noted that a street urchin had fallen into step with her, just slightly behind her and out of the normal range of vision.
For a moment Tzigone's throat tightened. The furtive, hollow-eyed child was a reminder of her early years and a mirror of what she had been forced to become. But that didn't stop her from seizing the thin, seeking hand that reached for her bag.
Tzigone spun the boy around, flinging him against the back wall of a milliner's shop. She caught him by surprise, and tossing him about was easy to do. But not until she had him pinned against the wall did she realize that the boy was fully her height and probably nearly as strong. That realization didn't change her intention in the slightest.
She turned his grimy hand palm up and slapped into it a coin, one of the skie that the starsnake's skin had brought her.
"You need a few lessons," she hissed. "Gwillon over on Low Street is looking for an apprentice. Give him this and mention my name…."
She had to think for a moment before the name of the child thief she'd once been came back to her. "Tell him that Sindra says you have promise."
The lad eyed the coin, then lifted an awed gaze to hers. That single skie might be more riches than he'd held in five moons, but the name was worth far more to him. Gwillon was a master pickpocket and a legend among the shadows of this city. The man was getting along in years, but his training might be enough to keep this lad alive. Justice in Halruaa was swift, and few thieves were caught twice. She'd given the boy a rare second chance, and he knew it.
The boy fisted his hand around his apprentice fee and darted off in the direction of Low Street. Tzigone nodded approvingly and went on through the back way to the shop where she was currently employed.
Chimes sang musically as she opened the door. Tzigone glanced up, marveling anew that something so beautiful could be made from the sort of scraps that a butcher might toss to stray dogs. Behir's bones. Who would know by looking at the ugly creatures that they housed such fey beauty?
Halruaans were never content to leave any creature as nature intended, and behirs were a special target of their breeding programs. Miniature behirs of various sizes were raised for purposes ranging from moat guardians to exotic nets, but like pigs and poets, they garnered most of their acclaim after their deaths. Their primary purpose was spell components.
It seemed that nearly every part of a behir was good for something.
For a moment Tzigone's throat tightened. The furtive, hollow-eyed child was a reminder of her early years and a mirror of what she had been forced to become. But that didn't stop her from seizing the thin, seeking hand that reached for her bag.
Tzigone spun the boy around, flinging him against the back wall of a milliner's shop. She caught him by surprise, and tossing him about was easy to do. But not until she had him pinned against the wall did she realize that the boy was fully her height and probably nearly as strong. That realization didn't change her intention in the slightest.
She turned his grimy hand palm up and slapped into it a coin, one of the skie that the starsnake's skin had brought her.
"You need a few lessons," she hissed. "Gwillon over on Low Street is looking for an apprentice. Give him this and mention my name…."
She had to think for a moment before the name of the child thief she'd once been came back to her. "Tell him that Sindra says you have promise."
The lad eyed the coin, then lifted an awed gaze to hers. That single skie might be more riches than he'd held in five moons, but the name was worth far more to him. Gwillon was a master pickpocket and a legend among the shadows of this city. The man was getting along in years, but his training might be enough to keep this lad alive. Justice in Halruaa was swift, and few thieves were caught twice. She'd given the boy a rare second chance, and he knew it.
The boy fisted his hand around his apprentice fee and darted off in the direction of Low Street. Tzigone nodded approvingly and went on through the back way to the shop where she was currently employed.
Chimes sang musically as she opened the door. Tzigone glanced up, marveling anew that something so beautiful could be made from the sort of scraps that a butcher might toss to stray dogs. Behir's bones. Who would know by looking at the ugly creatures that they housed such fey beauty?
Halruaans were never content to leave any creature as nature intended, and behirs were a special target of their breeding programs. Miniature behirs of various sizes were raised for purposes ranging from moat guardians to exotic nets, but like pigs and poets, they garnered most of their acclaim after their deaths. Their primary purpose was spell components.
It seemed that nearly every part of a behir was good for something.