"Jude Fisher - Fool's Gold 02 - Wild Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fisher Jude)

great halls of Eyra's clan chiefs, but it was a fine and sturdy longhouse
constructed from timbers shipped out from the mainland in the time of
Aran's great-grandfather, from stone dug out of the surrounding hillsides,
and roofed in the traditional fashion with peat and turf. Even on this fine
summer morning a curl of smoke rose from the central fire that was
maintained all day and night throughout the year. My home, Aran
thought with pride, taking in the bustle of activity in the enclosures, the
shimmering field of barley, the white specks of sheep up on the mountain
pastures. When he had taken over responsibility for Rockfall after the last
war, the hall had been in a state of disrepair, the crop fields fallow, the
outhouses tumbled down. Aran Stenson had paid little mind to his land,
preferring a life on the sea, "trading" as he liked to call it, though others
might consider it simple piracy. The Istrians, for example. Aran Aranson
smiled. He had done his duty by his family; he had made Rockfall a
steading to be proud of. It had taken years of hard and selfless work; he
had rebuilt much of the hall with his own hands, in the days when they
could barely afford to feed themselves, let alone their retainers. He and
Bera had raised a family, and lost five children to stillbirth and disease
along the way. He had won support from his neighbors and from lords and
clan chiefs across Eyra for his steady voice and fair dealings in a hundred
lawsuits, and his strong arm in enforcing them. He had made himself a
man to be reckoned with by walking the line of sense and responsibility all
these long years; and now he considered he had earned the right to follow
his own dreams and enjoy the adventures he had missed out on as a young
man, and had been promising himself ever since. That promise had
propelled him through the difficulties of his marriage and the dullness of
the farming. It had kept him steady all these years, and now he would have
his reward.
He patted the pouch he wore about his neck. In it nestled a scrap of
parchment, an ancient map he had come by from a nomad trader at the
Allfair. That map would bring riches his forebears could never have
imagined. His pursuit of the treasure it guaranteed was hardly, therefore,
a selfish thing: it would provide for his family far better than his staying
on Rockfall and managing the farm, or by mining and trading the rare
sardonyx out of the heart of the island, which was both costly and
time-consuming. No, in one fell swoop, with some luck, some audacity,
and the right vessel, he would make their fortunes. Bera could live like the
rich woman she had always dreamed she would be. His sons could buy a
veritable fleet of long-ships, sail the Ravenway, or, in Fent's case, go
raiding the Istrian coast, before they settled for some good land and a wife
to plough. And as for Katla, wherever she might be?
He scanned the landscape absentmindedly for his daughter, his
thoughts already drifting out onto the high seas, to the north, with their
drifting floes and towering bergs and secret islands wreathed in mist.
Drawn back to the ocean by the seductive images in his head, he
watched the last of the fishing boats sail out of the bay, passing the
dramatic spike of the Hound's Tooth, the rocky headland which provided
the island with its look-out position to all points south and west. On its
very apex, a detached rock stood out, balanced precariously on its seaward
lip. He narrowed his eyes, and as he did so, the sun crested the mountains