"McKenna,.Juliet.E.-.Einarinn.03.-.Gambler's.Fortune" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

'I think you owe these ladies an apology, friend.' Sorgrad's voice was genial enough but the glitter in his eyes told a different story. Vadim curled his lip and drew a deep breath on some defiant retort.
Niello stepped forward making a wary bow to 'Gren while prudently keeping out of range of his knives. 'That's enough, Vadim. You've had your lesson in manners, so get out of here and clean yourself up.'
I couldn't ever recall hearing such authority in Niello's voice and it certainly brought Vadim to heel. The clown drew himself up and spat bloody phlegm into the rushes at 'Gren's feet. He left the yard, all eyes on him in silent hostility, no one offering so much as a handkerchief to staunch his oozing wound.
As soon as Vadim's back was turned, the girl Kelty was at 'Gren's elbow, offering him wine, dabbing delicately at a bruise on his cheekbone now darkening impressively under his fair skin. He sheathed his knives and submitted meekly
to her ministrations. She shot a proprietorial glance at the other dancers, who had to content themselves with helping the grizzling Lalla back into the inn. 'Gren gave me a wink over Kelty's shoulder that suggested his energies were far from spent.
'Come on, Usara. It's time I was off to my bed.' I stood up and gave Sorgrad a brief embrace. 'Call on us in the morning.'
'We'll do that, first thing. Well, as soon as we're out of bed.' Sorgrad's gaze was resting on the erstwhile heroine, now standing looking rather impatiently after Niello, who was trying to excuse the fight to the innkeeper.
'Come on, Usara.' The wizard followed me out with an air of confusion that kept him silent all the way back to our inn, up the stairs and into our respective bedchambers.
CHAPTER TWO
I learned this song as a young bride, when my husband's cohort was stationed in defence of Selerima. Small groups would gather in the islands in the river at equinox and solstice, unmistakably descendants of the People of the Plains. This song makes it clear that Arimelin has been granting her gift of dreams to all races for uncounted generations.
Sal Ar'Imela, the goddess has made
Your woods and your waters,
Your groves and your shade.
River and tree meet in endless embrace,
May lovers be fruitful
When joined in this place.
Send wisdom in sleep to those bold ones who lie,
Where two realms and neither
Rule under the sky.
Let heartsore lay burdens beneath bow and leaf
That cleansing oblivion
May wash away grief.
Sal Ar'Imela, your blessings we seek
For newborn and dying
For mighty and meek.
Selerima, Western Ensaimin, Second Day of the Spring Fair, Morning
I don't think they're coming.' Usara stalked over to the window to look down at the street for the third time since the second chime of the day. Below Selerimans were walking off last night's excesses or setting off to haggle at the fairground.
I helped myself to fine white bread and lavender-scented honey cleared of every speck of comb. This wasn't a morning for anything greased or spicy. 'Sorgrad'll keep his word,' I said stickily. 'Even if he's decided against helping us.'
Usara picked up a tankard of small beer and set it down again untasted. 'You don't think they will?'
'I have no idea,' I replied, exasperated. 'I reckon the chances are better than even but Sorgrad will have a sight more questions before he agrees to work for wizards.'
'Sorgrad does the thinking for both of them?' asked Usara with a faint sneer.
'You'd better keep a civil tongue in your head,' I warned. 'Mountain Men are no more stone-skulled cave dwellers in bearskins than Forest Folk are heedless songsters living off nuts and berries. Relax and eat your breakfast; they'll have had a late night last night.'
'I'm still not convinced we need involve them,' said Usara testily. 'Be careful how much you tell them; you know Planir and D'Olbriot are agreed we need to keep word of the Elietimm very close, until we have a definite means of countering their enchantments.'
'You can swear every mage and esquire to secrecy on pain of death, but you won't stop word getting out. I spend more
time round backstairs than you do, wizard, and rumours were running round the kitchen yards of Toremal last winter.' I waved the honey spoon at him. 'I'll tell Sorgrad what he needs to know. I don't think you realise I need the pair of them a cursed sight more than I need you, just at present. They know people and places and all manner of useful things besides the Mountain tongue. You may have your magic but that's precious little value most of the time.'
'I think you found it useful enough yesterday.' Usara's words were clipped and haughty.
'Fair comment.' I sweetened my tone. 'It's just that it's important you get on with them. You have to understand how Sorgrad and Sorgren think. It's very straightforward; the world is divided into people they are for and the rest. If they decide to call you friend, they'll take a dagger in the ribs before they'll let you come to harm. If you don't measure up, they won't piss on you if you're on fire in the street. Can you understand?'
Usara opened his mouth, changed his mind about what he was going to say and turned to look down along the high road. I continued my meal and wondered about a few things. Hopefully Vadim hadn't been stupid enough to catch up with 'Gren this morning. I'd yet to see anyone get the better of 'Gren and wasn't about to wager a Lescar cut-piece that I ever would. Countless men had thought they could take on some scrawny son of a fatherless goat and ended up mixing blood with their wine. I wiped my fingers on my napkin. If there had been any trouble, Sorgrad had the wit to keep out of it and send word to me. If worst had come to worst, Reza knew where we were lodging; he was a bright lad.
A maid knocked and opened the door of our private parlour, bobbing a curtsey. 'Beg pardon, but there are two gentlemen to see you.' She covered her breath of hesitation over the word gentlemen with creditable aplomb.
'Fair festival to you.' 'Gren breezed cheerily in while Sorgrad swept the maidservant a courteous bow and sent her on her way with a silver penny to tuck into her bodice.
He was dressed in willow green today, another expensively tailored display of understated elegance.
'Good morning.' Usara's nod mixed welcome with a nicely calculated hint of his rank in relation to theirs. 'It will be when I've eaten,' 'Gren took a seat and reached for the last soft roll. 'My throat's full of cobwebs.' Doubtless wakeful until nigh on the last chime of the night, he looked remarkably lively, washed and brushed in clean linen and plain leather.
Sorgrad settled himself on the window seat, speaking without preamble. 'So, who's this, Livak?'
'Usara?' I spread an inviting hand.
'I'm here to represent the Archmage's interests.' The wizard drank small beer with an expressionless face. 'I am a mage with a principal talent over the earth beneath us and skills with the other elements supporting it. I have the honour to be pupil to Planir the Black.'
'Pupil? Cloak carrier, bag man, something like that?' Sorgrad's scepticism was a shade the polite side of insulting.
'I have been privy to the Archmage's councils for some years.' Usara looked down his nose with an air of condescension.
'Not much experience of the world beyond your halls and courts then?' Sorgrad tilted his head on one side.
'If you lot were hounds, I'd expect to wait around while you all sniffed around and cocked a leg on the fence posts,' I commented idly. 'Since you're not, could we just get on?'
Sorgrad and 'Gren laughed and after a moment Usara's severe countenance lightened with a rather sheepish grin.