Читать книгу The Dragon's Vow or the Stubborn Bride онлайн

Sitting in the gig driven by the silent Batmore, I gazed at the noble Eshsheri leisurely strolling in the autumn park with their smart daughters and husbands. At the carriages rushing past. On thoroughbred, well-trained horses with equally thoroughbred riders. To tastefully decorated shop windows. For fountains that don’t freeze even in winter. She looked and smiled involuntarily, sincerely enjoying every moment.

Eh! Still, there are advantages in the life of a magician! Did I think, running around the castle courtyard with the boys, that this would happen to me? That one day I will be able to travel alone without parental supervision?

As we moved away from the center, the houses became darker in appearance. Their narrow dark windows did not please with bright light and pretty curtains, but frightened with bars and iron shutters – the industrial quarter had begun. Buildings of factories and factories stretched out, where magic and craft were intertwined, producing metal products known throughout Balaria: from rune swords to cart wheel rims. From magical jewelry forging to ordinary scythes and sickles. Only at the boarding school did I learn what an important place my native land occupies in the world. How many inventors and scientists are born, and how rich in metals and jewels its depths are, the guardians of which from time immemorial were the ruling families of onyx dragons.

Having passed industrial areas, we found ourselves in residential ones. There were also shops and shops here, but with simpler display windows. Dim lights were burning in the windows, and the shadows of residents preparing dinner flickered. A rollicking melody came from some tavern, and the bright magic lanterns had long since been replaced by dim lanterns that gave off a deathly green color. Because of him, the faces of people rushing from work seemed especially sallow, and a staggering drunkard could easily be mistaken for a zombie.

And in some alleys there was no lighting at all. A noisy group tumbled out of one of these straight onto the roadway, frightening our horse. The driver had to use an air wave to gently push the revelers to the side of the road. Drunken swearing followed, but the phlegmatic Bathmore silently whipped the reins, urging the brown filly on.