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

"Oho, I think I do see." She could hear her voice crack like a boot breaking ice. "You're a coward."
He was on his feet in a moment, red-faced and shaking with a rage to match hers.
"After all I've risked for you, after all I've done for you-"
"You haven't done one thing for me. You've done it for the dweomer and the Light."
"I don't give a-" He caught himself on the edge of blasphemy. "So I did. Wasn't that enough, then, everything I suffered for the Light?"
"You can't measure out service like so many sacks of meal and say 'enough, no more.' But that doesn't matter anyway. My road isn't your road. I couldn't have Rhodry and the dweomer both, but there's no reason on earth you can't raise your family and study as well. If I'd married, my life would have been my husband's. That's a woman's Wyrd, not yours. You can have Marka's life and yours as well. You're just too cursed lazy to study, aren't you? That's the ugly truth of it. Lazy and a coward."
"Mock and goad me all you want. I've made my decision."
"Well and good, then. Far be it from me to stop you. Not one thing on this earth or over it or under it can force you to take up the birthright you're throwing away. But cursed and twice cursed if I linger to watch you."
She turned on her heel and spun out of the chamber, slamming the door behind her, and strode down the narrow hall that stank of dust and damp in the cloying heat. She meant to go for a walk in the night air and let them both come to their senses, but he was furious enough to follow her.
"I am sick half to death of you lording it over me," he snarled. "Don't you think I know you despise me?"
"Naught of the sort! I'm merely sick at heart to see you pissing your life away into a puddle."
"Oh, am I now? Is that all you think Marka is? A waste of my most exalted and ever so talented self?"
"Of course not! It's got naught to do with the lass."
"It's got everything to do with her. That's what you don't understand. You're just like Nevyn, Jill. As cold and nasty hearted as ever the old man was."
"Don't you say one word against Nevyn."
The snarl in her voice frightened even her. He stopped in midreply and stepped back against the wall as if she were a thief come to murder him.
"You spoiled stinking mincing little fop," she went on. "Have it your way, then. My curse upon you!"
She slammed out of the inn, strode across the courtyard, slammed out of the gates, and stomped off for a long walk round the town. Wildfolk clustered round her like an army, and whether it was her rage or their unseen but bristling presence, she didn't know, but no one, not one single thief or drunkard, so much as came near her all during that long aimless trek. Through the muddy streets of Injaro, out into the surrounding cleared land along a rutted road-only the light from the Wildfolk of Aethyr kept her from breaking her neck and ending that particular incarnation then and there. All at once she realized that she'd gone dangerously far from the town, no matter how much dweomer she had, and turned back. For all that she'd walked herself exhausted, she still was too angry to judge Salamander fairly.
Toward dawn her wandering brought her back to a small rise overlooking the harbor, where she paused among a tangle of huge ferns, as big as trees, to catch her breath. Down below, out at the end of a long jetty, a boat lay at anchor in a pool of torchlight. Like ants the troupe moved back and forth, hauling their personal goods for the sailors to stow below. At the landward end of the jetty, Salamander was supervising while a pair of stevedores unloaded the troupe's props and stage from a wagon. Jill swore aloud. She'd forgotten how early the tide would turn for their journey out. Fortunately there was still plenty of time left. She could trot right down, tell Salamander that she was going back to the inn for her pack and suchlike, then return to the coaster before they sailed.
For a long time she stood there, leaning against one of the tree ferns, and wondered why she wasn't hurrying. Already out to the east the sky was beginning to lighten to the furry gray that meant dawn coming. Her gnome appeared to grab the hem of her shirt and pull on it as if he wanted to lead her to the ship. She picked him up in her arms and made sure she had his attention.
"Go tell Dallandra it's time. Find her among the Guardians. She'll know who sent you."
In a puff of moldy air the gnome vanished. Jill watched the bustle at the pier. It seemed that everyone was on board, but Salamander lingered on land, looking up the road into the town, pacing back and forth, pausing to stare again. When the captain left the ship and walked over to argue with him, Salamander waved his arms in the air and shook his head in a stubborn no. The sky was all silver now, and already the heat of day was building in the humid air. Jill had one last stab of doubt. Was she simply being stubborn? Was she deserting a friend, and him one she'd known for years and years? Yet with the cold intuition of the dweomer she knew that she was doing the right thing, that she could no more force him to take up his Wyrd before he wished than Nevyn had been able to force her, all those years ago.
At last, Salamander flung both hands into the air, shook his head, and followed the captain on board. Just as the ship was pulling away from the jetty, the gray gnome appeared, all grins and bows. Jill picked him up again and held him like a child clutching a doll as she watched the ship sail away, heading south on a rising wind, until it disappeared into the opalescent dawn. In the day's fresh heat, sweat trickled down her back.
"Well, we can hope, at least, that the Elder Brothers found themselves a better island to settle than this one, but somehow or other, I have my doubts."
The gnome mugged a mournful face, then disappeared.

The ship had sailed some miles down the coast before Marka realized that something was wrong with Salamander. She was standing in the stern of the boat, watching the wake and chatting with the helmsman, when a grim Keeta made her way back through the piles of trunks and boxes.
"Marka, you'd best tend to that husband of yours. He's up in front."
When she hurried forward, Keeta followed, but she hovered a respectful distance away, back by the mast. At the prow, Salamander was leaning onto the wale as if he were a lookout, but she could tell that he was staring off toward nothing and seeing nothing as well.
"Ebany?"
He neither moved nor seemed to hear. For a moment she felt paralyzed by a sudden mad fear, that no words of hers would ever reach him, that if she tried to touch him her hand would pass right through his arm, that never again would he hear when she tried to speak. As if a waking nightmare had dropped over her like a net the light turned strange, all blue and cold for the briefest of moments. She could not speak, knowing that he would never hear. She caught her breath in a sob, and he spun round, masking his face in a smile.
"Well, we're under way nice and early, aren't we?"
The illusion shattered. Ordinary sunlight danced on the sea and fell warm on her skin and hair. Yet, when he went on smiling, she felt as if he'd slapped her, that he would hide his hurt this way.
"I thought something was wrong."
"Oh, no, no. Just thinking."
In her sudden misery she could only study his face and wonder if he still loved her.
"Salamander?" Keeta strode forward. "Where's Jill?"
"Oh, she's not coming with us. There's really nothing she in these stinking islands, so she'll be catching a ship back to Orystinna."
"Really?" Keeta raised one eyebrow.
"Just that." Ebany smiled again, easily and smoothly. "She's got her work to do, you know, and she could see that she's not going to find any rare books in these rotting little towns."
"Well, that's certainly true enough." Keeta hesitated, on the edge of asking more. "I always wondered why she came out with us in the first place. But do you think she'll be all right?"
"My dear woman!" Ebany laughed aloud. "I've never known anyone better able to take care of herself than Jill."
Keeta nodded, considering, then smiled herself.
"Well, that's most likely true, too. Just wondering. I'm surprised she didn't say good-bye, but then, she's not the kind of woman who likes a long drawn-out parting. You can see that."
Ebany kept smiling until she wandered off, picking her way through the deck cargo in search of Delya; then he flung himself round and leaned onto the wale again, staring out as if he were struggling not to cry. Marka could think of nothing to do but lean next to him and wait. Ahead the sea stretched out like a road, green-blue and flecked with brown kelp. Gulls darted and shrieked in the rising sun.
"Ah, well," Ebany said at last. "Even old friends must part, sooner or later, I suppose."
"Are you going to miss Jill?"
He nodded a yes, staring off to sea.
"Well, darling," Marka felt like sobbing in relief, just from having something to say. "If the show keeps doing so well, maybe can go to Deverry someday and see her again. If she's at this Wmmglaedd place, we'll know where to find her."
He turned to look at her, and this time his smile was genuine.