Аннотация
Frank Tuttle
The Banshee's Walk
Chapter One
If you’re a finder, you never know who might next knock at your door. People are always losing something-husbands or wives, sisters or sons. Faith or hope. Trust or money.
If you’re a finder named Markhat, well, then you’re me, and you know exactly what I mean.
It was barely sunup, and it was hot. Hot days in Rannit raise a mighty stink from the Regent’s new sewers, and since half the damned ogres this side of the Divide haul their manure carts past my door, I get a double dose of stink ’til sundown.
I resolved to just start walking north and not stop until my boots sank in fresh snow when someone started pounding at my door.
You can tell a lot about a person by the way they knock. Women usually don’t do more than tap. A woman with husband troubles tend to dart up and tap twice and then turn and scurry away, as if they weren’t in any way associated with my door and its painted finder’s eye. H...
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