Stone Cold

Начало книги

Deep in the dense, dark forests of south-west Gaul, a young woman gathers berries in the afternoon. From time to time she pauses to nibble on brambles that shine like ravens' wings, or clusters of ripe red raspberries that scent the air and show the teeth marks of mice. There is no wind in the forest, and what little sunshine manages to penetrate the aromatic canopy is sprinkled with butterflies and powdered with fine particles that float in the stillness.

Passing slender rowans, their branches heavy with ripening fruits, the girl is reminded that her father uses this bark in his tannery, just like he uses the bark from holm oak and the young branches of sumach. She smiles, revealing dimples in both cheeks. Soon she will be married, and then (praise the Hammer God!) there will be an end to the stench of stale urine that every tanner uses to loosen the wool and hair from the hides.

Brigetia had never grown used to it.

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