"Juliet E. McKenna - Einarinn 4 - The Warrior's Bond" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKenna Juliet E)

masked hollow realisation that all Messire's current ambitions had nearly been
sunk along with the vessel. Then I would have lost all, committed to the
Sieur's service for no hope of the reward that had persuaded me to renew my
oath to the House. Elation crowded out such pointless worry. The ship and its
precious passengers were here. Now I could promote my patron's interests in
good conscience, while also settling those obligations that touched my honour.
Once such debts were settled on either hand, I could hope for future
independence with Livak at my side. Exhilaration carried me as far as the door
before I realised Casuel was still standing at the window, arms crossed over
his narrow chest and with a scowl so black it threatened to tangle his brows
in his hair.
'Come on,' I urged. 'They may need help.'
Casuel sniffed. 'Any mage who can wield that kind of power is going to have
little use for my assistance.'
There's a widely held belief in Tormalin that wizards are
so air-headed they're no earthly use. Casuel confirmed this more thoroughly
than any other mage I'd met. Before Messire's command and Dastennin's whim had
tangled me up in these arcane complexities, I'd had no cause to meet mages.
Like most folk, I vaguely assumed studying the mysteries of magebirth
conferred wisdom, as always seemed the case in ancient tales. In reality I'd
not met anyone quite so small-minded as Casuel since the dame-school where I
learned my letters. Always fretting over what other people might think of him,
suspicious that he was never given his due, he was a tangled mess of petty
ambition. I'd been born to a family of no-nonsense craftsmen, and had chosen a
life among soldiers in service to a noble House, so I'm used to men
straightforward to the point of bluntness and confident in acknowledged
skills. Casuel tested my patience sorely.
But he's a dedicated scholar, I reminded myself, a talent you can't claim.
Just as important, Casuel was Tormalin born and bred, so knew and respected
the ranks and customs of our country, which undoubtedly made him the most
fitting wizard to act as link between Hadrumal and Toremal. It was just a
shame he wasn't easier to work with.
'We're here to greet the Kellarin colonists on behalf of the Sieur and the
Archmage, aren't we?' I held the door open. These past few seasons shepherding
Casuel around the byways and bridleways of Tormalin in search of ancient tomes
buried in ancestral libraries had taught me that arguing simply set the wizard
digging in his expensive boot heels. Calm assumption of his cooperation soon
had him picking up his cloak, grumbling under his breath as he followed me.
I drew my own cape close as we stepped out of the superior guest house into
the extensive grounds of Ostrin's shrine. The flighty wind snatched at my hood
and I let it fall back rather than struggle to keep my head dry as Casuel was
doing. The porter at the main gate opened the postern for us with a friendly
smile to lighten his grimace as he left his sheltered niche. The wind slammed
the heavy oak behind us.
Catching Casuel by the arm, I pulled him out of the path
of a sled skittering down the hill on gleaming metal runners. We placed our
feet on the slick blue cobbles with care but locals ran down the notoriously
steep streets of Bremilayne with the practised abandon of goats from the
mountains rising up behind the city. Rain poured from the slate-hung eaves of
houses stepped on foundations obstinately defying the slope, the door of one