"Kerr, Katharine - Westlands 01 - A Time Of Exile v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

"Well, I did happen to speak with Samwna. My name is Nevyn, and that's a name, not a jest."
"Indeed? Well, then, Lord Nobody, welcome to our humble farm. Samwna's a good woman, isn't she? And her daughter Braedda's my best friend. As meek as a suckling lamb, but I do like her."
Glaenara ran her hands down the mule's legs, thumped it on the chest, then grabbed its head and pried its mouth open to look at its teeth before the startled mule could even object. His wet shirt in his hand, Nalyn came back and watched sourly.
"Now, I'm the one who's saying if we buy that mule or not."
"Then take a look at its mouth yourself."
When Nalyn went to do so, the by now wary mule promptly bit him on the arm. Howling with laughter, Glaenara cuffed the mule so hard that it let go. Nevyn grabbed Nalyn's arm and looked at it: mule bites could turn nasty, but fortunately, this one hadn't broken the skin. Nalyn was cursing a steady stream under his breath.
"Just bruised, I'd say," Nevyn said soothingly. "My apologies."
"Wasn't you," Nalyn growled. "Glae, I'm going to beat you so hard one of these days."
"Just try." Glaenara set her hands on her hips and smiled at him.
At that, the other two women came running out of the house. Glaenara's mother was gray and thin, her face drawn and etched deep with exhausted lines. Her sister was pretty, with less strength but more harmony in her wide-eyed face. Sniveling, the sister caught her husband's arm and looked up, pleading with him silently. The mother turned to Glaenara.
"Glae, please? Not in front of a stranger."
With a sigh, Glaenara turned tame, coming over to slip her arm around her mother's frail waist and give her a kiss on the cheek. Nalyn patted his wife's arm, looked Nevyn's way, and blushed again. For a moment they all stood there in a miserable tableau; then Glaenara led her mother back to the house. With one backward glance at Nevyn, the sister hurried after.
"My apologies for my little sister," Nalyn said.
"My good sir, no man in his right mind would hold you responsible for anything that lass does."
As he was riding back to the village, Nevyn met Lord Pertyc's warband, coming two abreast in a cloud of dust. At the head rode the lord himself, a tall but slender man who reminded him strikingly of Prince Mael, his distant ancestor, with his raven-haired Eldidd good looks and heavy-lidded dark blue eyes. Beside him on a gray pony was a young lad of about eight, so much like the lord that Nevyn assumed it was his son. As they passed, Pertyc gave Nevyn a wave and a nod; Nevyn bowed gravely. Behind came ten men with badgers painted on their shields. At the very rear, riding alone in the dust but grinning as cheerfully as ever, was Maer. When he saw Nevyn, he waved.
"I've got myself a nice warm spot in a badger's hole. You brought me good luck, Nevyn."
"Good, good! I've settled into the village. No doubt we'll see each other from time to time."

"You know what?" Adraegyn said.
"I don't," Maer said. "What?"
"Da says he wants to hire more silver daggers if he can find them."
"Does he now? Do you know why?"
"I'll wager there's going to be a war. Why else would he come fetch me back from Cousin Macco's?"
"No doubt you're right, truly."
Adraegyn considered him for a moment. He was perched on the edge of the watering trough and watching while Maer cleaned his tack. Maer enjoyed the young lordling's company; as the eldest of a family of seven, he was used to having children tagging after him.
"Do you have to polish that dagger a lot? Silver plates and stuff get dirty truly fast."
"So they do. But the dagger's different. It's not entirely made of silver, you see."
"Can I look at it? Or is that rude to ask?"
"You can look at mine, but never ask another silver dagger, all right? Most of us are a bit touchy about it. Now be careful. It's as sharp as the Lord of Hell's front tooth."
Grinning, Adraegyn took the dagger and hefted it, then risked a gingerly touch on the blade with the ball of his thumb.
"Have you ever slain a man with this dagger?"
"I haven't, but then, I haven't had it very long. Maybe I'll get my chance if your father rides to war."
"I wish I could go, but I'm still learning stuff." Adraegyn sighed dramatically. "And I've got to waste all this time learning to read."
"Truly? Now that's a strange thing. Why?"
"Da says I have to. All the men in our clan learn to read. It's one of the things that makes us Maelwaedds."
In a few minutes the Maelwaedd himself came strolling over to lean on the watering trough beside his son.
"It's always pleasant to see another man work," Pertyc said. "Odd, but there you have it."
"So it is, my lord. Sometimes I'd be traveling and stop to watch some poor bastard of a farmer slaving out in the fields, just to be watching him."
"Just so. Here, Draego, what are you doing with Maer's silver dagger?"
"He let me look at it, Da. That's all."
"Careful-those things are blasted sharp."
"I know, Da!" Somewhat reluctantly, Adraegyn handed the dagger back to Maer. "Da, I want to go riding. Can I take my pony down to the village?"
"By all means. Or here." Pertyc hesistated for a moment. "Maer, go with him, will you? You can use some of the spare tack while yours is drying."
"Done, my lord." Maer looked up sharply. "Do you think there might be trouble?"
"The world's as full of trouble as the sea is full of fish. I don't think anything just yet, but listen, Draego, from now on, when you want to leave the dun, you tell me first and take one of the men with you."
"Why? I never used to have to."
"Do as I say and hold your tongue about it. I'll tell you more when there's more to tell."
There was a fair amount of activity down in Cannobaen that afternoon, because it was market day. Most of the farmers and craftsmen had their goods spread out on blankets on the ground, though the weaver and local blacksmith did have little stalls. As Maer and Adraegyn strolled around, the lad would stop every now and then and ask a villager how his wife was doing or if his children were well, and he managed to remember everyone's name in a most impressive manner. At the edge of the market, a young woman was sitting behind baskets of eggs. Maer was immediately struck by her. Although she wasn't beautiful, she was handsome, with a slightly malicious touch to her grin and life sparkling in her blue eyes.
"Who's that, my lord?" Maer pointed her out.
"Oh, that's Glae. She and her kin have the farm next to our demesne."