There's a brief silence. One of the men in the room, a beefy individual with blunt features and longish grey hair, looks at me in surprise, then turns to Lisutaris. #51 в контекст | | |
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"That's right!" I say. "And I advise you to stop talking and start marching." #54 в контекст | | |
Suddenly I feel quite suspicious of the grey-haired man. "Have you been talking about surrendering? Samsarinans never did have the stomach for a fight." #55 в контекст | | |
"How dare you talk to Baron Mabados like that!" cries an official with a fancy chain round his neck. I ignore him, having noticed a woman in a red gown standing in the doorway. She looks vaguely familiar. Possibly a servant I met on the way in. #56 в контекст | | |
"Could you bring me some beer? A flagon or two will do for now." #57 в контекст | | |
"Thraxas!" yells Lisutaris. "That is Baroness Demelzos." #58 в контекст | | |
I focus my eyes on the woman. Aquiline features, fancy sort of tiara-like thing stuck in her hair. I suppose she might be a Baroness. #59 в контекст | | |
"Is everybody in this room a member of the aristocracy? Isn't there anyone useful who might bring me a beer? They were quiet stingy in the kitchens." #60 в контекст | | |
"My kitchens are not stingy!" says Kublinos, offended. #61 в контекст | | |
At that moment, weakened perhaps by the rigours of my sea journey, a greet tiredness overwhelms me, and I'm forced to take a seat at the table. It's a fine comfy seat, plushly upholstered in soft brown leather. As I drift off to sleep I'm still feeling some resentment towards the Samsarinans for their frugal hospitality. #62 в контекст | | |
