"Jude Fisher - Fool's Gold 01 - Sorcery Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fisher Jude)

The foreign lord's eyes swept insolently over Katla's bare arms and wild hair, resting
for a moment longer than propriety required on the hint of cleavage visible at the top of
her sweat-streaked tunic, then turned to Aran. "I believe you sell fine knives," he stated
smoothly. His voice was silky and light, and he spoke the Old Tongue with barely a trace
of Istrian.
Aran nodded. "But we're not open for business until after noon."
"I would like to be your first customer, to ensure I have the pick of your wares."
"Then you'll need to be here when we open up," Aran said shortly. Katla could tell from
his tone that something about the foreign lord irked him.
The Istrian raised an elegant eyebrow. "I see." He paused. He took a pouch from his
belt, weighed it thoughtfully in his palm. "Might I not persuade you to open your stand
now, for a sum to be mutually agreed?"
Aran laughed. "No. We won't be ready till noon," he repeated.
The foreigner's eyes flashed. He adjusted his cloak to one side so that his house insignia
was for a second apparent, then let it fall back.
"It is imperative that I have the pick of your wares. Only the best will do."
"I'm flattered that our reputation has reached the far countries," Aran said with care.
"We could, perhaps, open just before noon for your convenience, and Katla here will take
you through her finest blades. They are pattern-welded to the highest—"
"This—woman?" The Istrian seemed appalled. "You let a woman show your daggers
for you?"
Aran looked wary. "Of course. They are Katla's own work, the finest in all of Eyra,
even though it might not be seemly to boast of my daughter's skills—"
The lord took a step backward as if Aran had fouled the air between them. He made a
complicated sign with his left hand and said something in his native language that was
quite unintelligible to Eyran ears. At last he said: "I cannot buy a weapon touched by a
woman, it would be quite unthinkable. Good day."
He turned on his heel. Then, as if he had had second thoughts, he turned back again
and addressed Katla directly. "There is a rumor circulating that a young Eyran woman
was caught on top of Falla's Rock at dawn this morning," he said, and his voice was cold
and dangerous. "I hope, for your sake, and the sake of your family, whom I am sure are
most fond of you, that that person was not you."
Katla stared at him. "Why, no," she said at once and looked him right in the eye. They
hadn't caught her, after all: so it was no lie.
"Because," he went on, "for a woman to trespass on Falla's Rock is a capital offense.
The Rock is sacred terrain, sacred to the goddess. For any other female to set foot there is
the deepest desecration."
Fent stepped forward then, his face furious. "The Rock is Sur's own ground—" he
started, but his father interrupted, his face grim: "It could not have been my daughter,
for as you can see, we have been laboring together for many hours, and she has not in all
that time left my sight."
The Istrian lord looked somewhat appeased. "My apologies." He made as if to leave,
but Aran said quickly, "Might I ask why you suspected the transgressor might have been
my daughter?"
"Why, her hair of course. The two lords who came upon her described her most
carefully. Long red hair, they said, long hair in a braid that she took down and flaunted at
them."
Aran laughed. "It is our custom in the north, as well you know, my lord, for both the
men and the women to wear their hair long; and many—like my son, Fent here—have
hair both long and red. I fear the gentlemen who came upon the trespasser may not have