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

up your blades and start your schools, you’ll have noble patrons and noble pupils panting in
anticipation of your teaching—and two not-so-noble aging fighters panting in anticipa-tion of
easy teaching jobs.”
Kethry had laughed at Ikan’s comic half-bow in their direction. “I take it that you already have a
company in mind?”
“Idra’s Sunhawks,” Justin had replied blandly.
“The Sunhawks? Warrior’s Oath—you’d aim us bloody damned high, wouldn’t you?” Tarma had
been well taken aback. For all that they were com-posed of specialist-troops—skirmishers, horse-
archers and trackers—the Sunhawks’ repute was so high that kings and queens had been known
to negotiate their contracts with Idra in person. “Good gods, I should bloody well think highborns
negotiate with them; their leader’s of the damned Royal House of Rethwellan! And just how are
we supposed to get a hearing with Captain Idra?”
“Us,” Ikan had replied, stabbing a thumb at his chest. “We’re ex-Hawks; we started with her, and
probably would still be with her, but Idra was going more and more over to horse-archers, and we
were getting less useful, so we decided to light out on our own. But we left on good terms; if we
recom-mend that she give you a hearing, Idra will take our word on it.”
“And once she sees that you’re what you claim to be, you’ll be in, never fear.” Justin had finished
for him. “Shin’a’in Kal’enedral—gods, you’d fit in like a sword in a sheath, Hawkface. And you,
Keth—
Idra’s always got use for another mage, ‘specially one nearly Masterclass. The best she’s got now
is a couple of self-taught hedge-wizards. Add in Furball there—you’ll be a combination she
won’t be able to resist.”
So it had proved. With letters in their pouches from both Ikan and his partner (both could read
and write, a rarity among highborn, much less mer-cenaries) they had headed for the Sunhawks’
win-ter quarters, a tiny hill town called Hawksnest. The name was not an accident; the town
owed its existence to the Sunhawks, who wintered there and kept their dependents there, those
dependents that weren’t permanent parts of the Company biv-ouac. Hawksnest was nestled in a
mountain valley, sheltered from the worst of the mountaintop weather, and the fortified barracks
complex of the Sunhawks stood between it and the valley entrance. When the Hawks rode out, a
solid garrison and all the Hawks-in-training remained behind. Idra believed in creat-ing an
environment for her fighters in which the only worries they needed to have on campaign were
associated with the campaign.
Signing with Idra was unlike signing with any other Company; most Hawks stayed with Idra for
years—she had led the Company for nearly twenty years. She’d willingly renounced her position
as third in line to the throne of Rethwellan twenty-five years earlier, preferring freedom over
luxury. She’d hired on with a mercenary company herself, then after five years of experience
accompanied by her own steady rise within the ranks, had formed the Hawks.
Tarma had been impressed with the quarters and the town; the inhabitants were easy, cheerful
and friendly—which spoke of good behavior on the part of the meres. The Hawks’ winter
quarters were better than those of many standing armies, and Tarma had especially approved of
the tall wooden palisade that stretched across the entrance to Hawksnest, a palisade guarded by
both Hawks and townsmen. And the Hawks themselves—as rumor had painted them—were a
tight and disciplined group; drilling even in the slack season, and show-ing no sign of winter-bom
softness.
Idra had sent for them herself after reading their letters; they found her in her office within the
Hawks’ barracks. She was a muscular, athletic look-ing woman, with the body of a born
horsewoman, mouse-gray hair, a strong face that could have been used as the model for a heroic
monument, and the direct and challenging gaze of the professional soldier.
“So,” she’d said, when they took their seats across the scratched, worn table that served as her
desk, “if I’m to trust Twoblade and Dryvale, it should be me begging you to sign on.”