"Kerr, Katharine - Westlands 02 - A Time Of Omens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

"Well, I hope she is pr-pr-pretty," the prince said at last. "Now that I know what . . . " And then he did blush, looking at that moment some ten years old. "I'd best get to b-b-bed."
"So you had. If I were you, I'd pretend to be asleep and snoring when Maddyn comes storming in. Our bard didn't seem to find the evening's sport amusing."

In the morning, over breakfast, Maddyn assembled the silver daggers who'd been at the Tupping Ram to piece out what had happened. He knew that it would be a good bit better for the miscreants if he settled this matter before Caradoc or Owaen took it in hand. As this less-than-pleasant meal progressed, he noticed that Branoic sat at the end of the table as far from him as possible, ate nothing, and spoke only when the others tormented him into doing so. Although Maddyn started out furious, by the time Branoic, stammering as much as the prince and twice as red, repeated the whore's remark about coring apples, he was laughing as hard as all the other men there.
"Oh, well and good, then," Maddyn said at last. "No one was killed, and so that's an end to it. Cheer up, Branno. I can't lie and say that I'd never have done such if I'd been you."
Everyone smirked and nodded agreement. Looking a bit less miserable, Branoic grabbed a slab of bread and busied himself in buttering it. Although everyone went on eating, Maddyn could tell that something was still bothering a couple of the men.
"Out with it, Stevyc."
"Well, by the hells, Maddo, I was just wondering." He glanced at Branoic. "Did you ever find out what they meant? About coring apples I mean?"
"I didn't. Everything happened too fast."
When Stevyc swore in honest regret, everyone howled and hooted. There was the true end to the matter, Maddyn assumed, and he pitched into his breakfast. Yet, as he was leaving the tavern room afterward, his little blue sprite appeared, and with her were two gray gnomes, dancing up and down with their normally slack mouths twisted into frowns. Her mindless blue eyes peered up at him in something like worry.
"What's all this?" Maddyn whispered. "You're not even supposed to be here. You'd best run away before Nevyn sees you. Whist!"
Yet they stayed with him, the sprite riding on his shoulder, the gnomes clinging to his brigga leg like frightened children. He considered for a moment, then went upstairs to Nevyn's chamber with the Wildfolk hurrying after. He found the old man sitting on the windowsill of his chamber and staring idly out across the spring countryside. Although Maddyn hesitated, wondering if he were interrupting some meditation, Nevyn turned to him and started to smile-until he saw the Wildfolk.
"What? You shouldn't be here!"
All three of them began to jump up and down and point up at the ceiling, their little faces twisted in an agony of concentration.
"Ye gods!" Nevyn sounded truly alarmed. "Someone's watching us?"
They shook their heads in a no, then frowned again and began pinching and shoving each other.
"Someone saw last night, when the men were fighting."
They all nodded, then disappeared. Even though Maddyn had no idea of what was happening, he went cold with fear just from tne look on Nevyn's face-an icy kind of horror mingled with rage.
"This is serious, Maddo lad, truly serious. When did they come to you?"
"Just now. I came straight up here."
"Good, good. You did exactly the right thing." Nevyn began to pace back and forth across the chamber. "Ye gods, I don't know what to do!"
Maddyn's chill of unease deepened. For so long he had so blindly trusted Nevyn to solve every problem that hearing the old man admit helplessness was as bad as a death sentence.
"We've got to get out of Dun Trebyc," the dweomerman said finally. "But we've got to do so in the right way. We need to keep up our ruse of being a perfectly ordinary troop of mercenaries."
"Well, if we were, we wouldn't be leaving without a proper hire. No single jewel merchant's rich enough to engage a whole band of mercenaries. If he was, he'd have bodyguards."
"Just so. We'd best find a better excuse than me. I-who's that? Come in!"
The footsteps they'd heard turned out to belong to Caradoc, who came in with a bob of a bow for the old man.
"We've got to get out of here today, Nevyn. Been lucky so far, but I'll wager the town warden and his men are going to be coming around soon, asking questions about that brawl last night."
"I had the same thought myself. Hum. I think I know where I can find us a hire. Since I'm a merchant now, I'd best go pay my respects to my new god, hadn't I? I'll be down at the temple of Nwdd if you need me."
When the old man returned, not more than an hour later, he brought two merchants with him and prosperous ones from the look of the fine wool in their checked brigga and cloaks. Stout men in their thirties, the pair stood uncertainly near the door of the inn chamber as Nevyn introduced them round as Budyc and Wffyn.
"We might have a hire for you, Captain." Budyc stroked his dark mustaches with a nervous hand. "The jewel merchant here swears you're reliable."
"More than most, anyway," Caradoc said. "And every one of my lads can fight like a fiend from hell. I'll swear it on Gamyl's altar if you want."
The merchants exchanged speculative glances.
"They'll have to do," Wffyn said. "This time of year, it's a stroke of luck to find a free troop that isn't pledged to a lord already."
Budyc shrugged in nervous agreement.
"Very well, Captain. Name your price."
"A silver piece a man on contract, then one a week, two if we see fighting, and you pay full wages for every man killed."
Again the two looked back and forth, and again Budyc shrugged.
"Done. It's fair, and there's no time to haggle. Leave the city gates as soon as you can, Captain. I'll meet you on the south-running road."
"Where are we going?"
"I'll tell you after we're well clear of Dun Trebyc." Budyc allowed himself a scant smile. "This town is full of ears."
After a solemn handshake all round, the merchants left. Maddyn and Caradoc turned on Nevyn the moment the door swung shut.
"I can't tell you one blasted thing." Nevyn held up both hands flat in protest. "All I know is that they're Cerrmor men going south, and that they're both rich and reliable."
"Well, that should be enough, truly." Caradoc paused, thinking hard while he rubbed his chin with one hand. "Maddyn, make sure our young lad rides in the middle of the pack on the morrow, will you?"
"I will. I might detail Aethan and Branoic to keep an eye on him-personally, like. Give them a chance to redeem themselves."
"Good idea. Carry it out." The captain glanced Nevyn's way. "I was thinking of putting him between me and Owaen, but that'd look too suspicious."
"I agree. By the way, Captain, I heard all sorts of news down at the temple. I must say that the merchant guilds do themselves proud when it comes to hearing what there is to hear. The Cantrae king seems to be planning a major offensive on the eastern side of the border-round Buccbrael, the rumors say. He's been stripping the west of men for some big march, anyway."
"Splendid, if it's true. Let's pray it is."
"Provided he doesn't strike at Cerrmor before we get there. The extreme west has always been Cerrmor's weakest point, and it's doubtless worse now that the Wolf Clan's had to surrender their lands and go into exile."
"Uh, you know," Caradoc said. "The border's held a long time without the Wolves on it. They went into exile-oh, at least twenty years ago."
"Has it been that long? When you get to be my age, it's so easy to lose track of time."