"L. E. Modesitt - Recluce 07 - The magic Engineer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

"Now ... off to the practice hall. You need to start on your weapons training."
Dorrin's steps are slow as he leaves, Lortren's eyes hard upon his back. Even more deliberate
are his steps into the room to which Lortren's words have directed him.
"You're Dorrin?" asks the guard. She stands next to a small table and chair, and her dark eyes
pin Dorrin to a spot just inside the dark oak door. The redhead nods, his eyes going past her to
the racks of weapons that line the space, which is less than twenty cubits square.
"Well . . . the first thing is to wander around and pick a weapon that feels right." The guard
offers a lopsided smile that may conceal humor.
"I'm not particularly fond of weapons."
"If you're serious about traveling in Candar, you're going to have to learn something about how
to defend yourself," says the thin woman in black. She gestures toward a rack of weapons on the
armory wall. "We can give you some basic training in any of those."
Dorrin steps toward the arrayed bows, blades, and other as-
L sorted tools to deliver force upon other individuals.
"Try a blade first."
Dorrin takes another step. He recognizes the shortsword that many of the Brotherhood prefer,
especially the women, perhaps because of the traditions established from their Westwind heritage.
Or perhaps because the blade works.
His left hand grasps a plain hilt, and he lifts the blade. Somehow, the coldness of the metal,
the feel of the edge-whatever the reason, the blade feels oily, almost unclean. He studies the
weapon for a time, not only with his eyes, but with his senses, as a healer might study a sick
person. Shivering, he sets it in the rack. Farther along he sees a battle axe. His eyes pass over
the double-bladed weapon, as well as the broadsword, and the other bladed weapons, for his senses
register the same uncleanliness.
At the end is a long staff, the wood polished smooth, although worn in places. His finger tips
touch the wood, then grasp it. He nods as he picks up the staff.
"You a healer?" asks the guard. "Should have told me. Most healers have trouble with the edged
weapons."
Dorrin wants to protest that he is not a healer, but stops. He is nothing in particular, but a
healer comes closest. That, or less than an apprentice smith. At least, that is what he thinks,
and thinking so does not give him the throbbing in his skull that misstatements and evasions do.
"That's as close as anything, but that's the problem."
"Oh ... one of those ..." nods the guard sagely, as if she has seen his kind before.
Dorrin finds himself flushing.
She gives an embarrassed grin in return. "I didn't mean it badly. Besides, a staff is a better
weapon for most travelers."
"Why would that be?" He recalls the deadly feel of the blades.
"Most people don't think of it as a real weapon, for one thing. For another, you can generally


file:///F|/rah/L.%20E.%20Modesitt/Modesitt,%2...Recluse%2007%20-%20The%20Magic%20Engineer.txt (18 of 289) [5/22/03 12:39:57 AM]
 file:///F|/rah/L.%20E.%20Modesitt/Modesitt,%20L%20E%20-%20Recluse%2007%20-%20The%20Magic%20Engineer.txt

hold off two blades if you know what you're doing. In time, a good blade can get you, though.
"Then you must be a very good blade to know so much."
The guard flushes. "You start here at the second morning bell."
"That's all I do today?"
"That's all. You'll make up for it on the days to come."