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

"Vairo the merchant made this map by the grace of the Star Goddesses in the reign of Archon Trono. That was in 977 by Deverry reckoning, Jill, well, give or take a year, anyway."
"You have my sincere thanks for going to all this trouble."
"You're most welcome. I'm afraid it's not much of a map."
"It's better than no map at all, and it'll be something to show round once we get to Anmurdio."
"You know, there are supposed to be cannibals in the smaller islands."
"Just like there's supposed to be sea serpents out in the southern ocean?"
Daeno laughed, nodding his head in agreement while he rolled up the map.
"The thing is," Jill went on. "I'm never going to get a merchant here on Main Island to risk his ship and his fortune on some daft scheme of sailing to the far south. Or well, there was one, but he has a wife and three children, and I couldn't let him. I just couldn't."
"Of course not." Daeno paused to swat at the gnomes, who were scurrying this way and that on the counter. "I'm surprised you found anyone at all. Who was it, by the bye? A local man?"
"No, a merchant up in Orysat, Kladyo by name."
"Elaeno's boy?"
"The very one! Do you know-oh, of course you'd know Elaeno!"
"Well, not intimately or anything, but we've met in the flesh and then, of course, out on the etheric we run into one another from time to time. Hum, am I right in this? I heard that his master in the dweomer was a Deverry man."
"That's true, and it was the same person who taught me. Nevyn, his name was."
Daeno whistled under his breath. The gnomes all went dead-still to listen.
"Not the Nevyn?" the old man said. "Oh, listen to me! There could only be one!"
"You've heard of him, then?"
"What?" Daeno laughed aloud. "Every dweomerworker in these parts has heard of Nevyn! He spent years and years in the islands, you know, over the last two hundred years or so. He'd turn up for twenty, thirty years at a time, then disappear again for even longer. Probably sailed back home to your kingdom. You must know all about it."
In fact, Jill didn't, and she was rather surprised to find it out now. Daeno went blithely on.
"But to get back to the problem in hand, if you want to sail south, I suppose that Anmurdio's the best place to look for a ship."
When Jill arrived back at the caravanserai, she found the troupe hard at work, readying costumes and props for the evening show. Salamander himself was sitting on the bed of a wagon with his feet dangling over the edge like a farm boy and whittling like one as well. On a piece of driftwood shaped much like a bird, he was carving details.
"It'll be a fine thing to juggle with." In illustration he tossed it spinning and caught it again in the same hand. "And I know what you're thinking, O Mistress of Magicks Marvelous, that if only I spent this much time and ingenuity, to say naught of cleverness, craft, wit, and willingness upon the dweomer, I should soon match you."
"Surpass me, more like. You've got the fluid natural talent that I never had."
"Oh, please, tease me not and mock me neither."
"Naught of the sort. I've had to work blasted hard for everything I've accomplished, while it comes easy to you. I suppose-no, I know-that's why I get so sour with you."
"Oh." He considered the wooden bird with a frown. "Well, that does put a different complexion on things, truly. Jill, you have my apologies. I try to control my frivolous nature, but it's just somewhat I was born with, I fear me."
"It's somewhat that could be overcome."
He shrugged and went back to refining a small burl that resembled a wing.
"Ebany, I just don't understand you."
"I don't understand myself."
"Would you please not put me off?"
He looked up, abruptly solemn, yet she couldn't tell if he were sincere or merely arranging the expression she wanted to see.
"Dweomer means everything to you, doesn't it?" he said.
"It does. More than meat and drink, more than life."
"More than love."
"Unquestionably, considering."
"Alas, my poor brother! I don't suppose he'll ever understand why you chose the dweomer over him. No more do I suppose that you particularly care if he does or not."
"That's not fair."
He winced at the bite in her voice.
"Look." Jill tried another tack. "I know the basic exercises and suchlike can be tedious. Why, when I was learning all the proper calls and salutes for the elemental kings and lords, I thought I'd go out of my mind from sheer boredom. But it's been more than worth it. Now I can travel where I will in their worlds and see the marvels there. But you know about that. You've had a taste of it yourself. I simply can't understand how you wouldn't want more."
"I don't have your devotion to the art."
"Oh, horseshit!"
"Ah, the silver dagger's daughter still!" He looked up from his work with a grin, then let it fade. "But horseshit it's not, my friend, my dear and treasured companion. Jill, when you want somewhat, you're so single-minded that it takes my breath away. The rest of the world's not like that."
"I'm not talking about the rest of the world."
"Oh, very well, then. I'm not like that."
Jill hesitated, struggling to understand.
"Well," he went on. "You had your own doubts about taking up the art, didn't you?"
"True spoken. But that's when I didn't know what it offered. You do know. I honestly don't see how you could get so far and then give it up."
"Ah. It's because you do the work out of love, while I have only duty and grim obligation as my whip and spur."
"You honestly and truly don't love the dweomer work?"