"Mercedes Lackey - Vows and Honor 2 - Oathbreaker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

Causes.
Leslac had stressed and overstressed their habit of succoring women in distress and avenging
those who were past distress. So now anyone who had an ax to grind came looking for them—
most particularly, women. And usually they came with empty pockets, or damned little in the
way of payment to offer, while the paying jobs they would rather have taken had been trickling
away to others—because those who might have offered those jobs couldn’t believe they’d be
interested in “mere money.”
And to add true insult to injury, a good half of the time Kethry’s geas-blade Need would force
them into taking those worthless Just Causes. For Need’s geas was, as written on her blade,
“Woman’s Need calls me/As Woman’s Need made me./Her Need will I answer/As my maker
bade me.” By now Kethry was so soul-bonded to the sword that it would have taken a god to free
her from it. Most of the time it was worth it; the blade imparted absolute weapons expertise to
Kethry, and would Heal anything short of a death wound on any woman holding it. And after the
debacle with the demon-godling Thalhkarsh, Need had seemed to quiet down in her demands,
unless directly presented with a woman in dire trou-ble. But with all those Just Causes showing
up, Need had been rapidly turning into something more than a bit expensive to be associated
with, thanks to Leslac.
They’d been at their wits’ ends, and finally had gone to another couple of mercenaries, old
friends of theirs, Justin Twoblade and Ikan Dryvale, for advice. They hadn’t really hoped the pair
would have any notions, but they were the last resort. And, somewhat to Tarma’s surprise,
they’d had advice.
It was the off-season for the Jewel Merchant’s Guild, Justin and Ikan’s employers; that meant no
caravans. And that meant that the paired merce-nary guards were cosily holed up in their private
quarters at the Broken Sword, with the winter months to while away. They certainly weren’t
stint-ing themselves; they had a pair of very decent rooms, the Broken Sword’s excellent ale—
and, as Tarma discovered when she tapped at their door, no lack of female companionship. But
the current pair of bright-eyed lovelies was sent pouting away when straw-haired Ikan answered
their knock and discovered just who it was chat had chosen to de-scend upon himself and his
partner-One of the innkeeper’s quick-footed offspring was summoned then, and sent off for food
and ale—for neither Justin nor his shieldbrother would hear a word of serious talk until everyone
was settled and comfortable at their hearth, meat and drink at their elbows. Justin and Ikan took
their hospitality very seriously.
“I’ve figured this was coming,” Justin had said, somewhat to Tarma’s shock, “And not just
because of that idiot songster. You two have very unique and specialized skills—not like me and
Ikan. You’ve gotten about as far as you can as an independent pairing. Now me and Ikan, we had
the opposite problem. We’re just ordinary fighting types; a bit better than most, but that’s all that
distinguishes us. We had to join a company to get a reputation; then we could live off that
reputation as a pair. But you—you’ve got a reputation that will get you high fees from the right
mercenary company.”
Tarma had shaken her head doubtfully at that, but Justin had fixed her with his mournful
houndlike eyes, and she’d held her peace.
“You, Tarma,” he’d continued, “need much wider experience, especially experience in
commanding others—and only a company will give you that. Kethry, you need to exercise skills
and spells you wouldn’t use in a partnership, and to leam how to delegate if your school is ever
going to be successful, and again, you’ll learn that in a company.”
“Long speech,” Tarma had commented sardonically.
“Well, I’ve got one, too,” Ikan had said, winking a guileless blue eye at her. “You also need
exposure to highborns, so that they know your reputation isn’t just minstrelsy and moonshine.
You haven’t a choice; you truly need to join a company, one with a reputation of their own, one
good enough that the highborns come to them for their contract. Then, once you are ready to hang