"Recluce - 09 - Colors Of Chaos" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

said.
   "And you've never let me forget it." Layel turned to Cerryl. "She'll
find any of your ill ways and try to heal you of them. Fair warning I'm
providing."
   "Father ..." Leyladin blushed.
   "Turning the glass is fair for both."
   Cerryl took another sip of the wine, amazed at how good it tasted,
uncertain of what he should say.
   Layel glanced at Cerryl. "I've embarrassed my daughter enough. She may
know how you became a mage, but I do not. Perhaps you could shed a word
or two about how you came to Fairhaven."
   "I'm afraid that my life is quite common, compared to yours," Cerryl
protested.
   "Best we should judge that. A man's no judge of himself."
   "Well... as Leyladin might have told you, I'm an orphan. Both my
parents died when I was so young I remember neither. I was raised by my
aunt and uncle ..." Cerryl went on to detail his years at the mines, his
apprenticeship at Dylert's mill, and then his work as an apprentice
scrivener for Tellis. "... and then, one day, one of the overmages
arrived at the shop and summoned me to meet with the High Wizard. He
examined me and decided I was suitable to be a student mage. That took
two years, and last harvest the Council made me a full mage ... a very
junior mage. Now I'm one of those who guard the gates to Fairhaven."
   "Good thing, too." Layel shook his head. "I don't mind as paying the
tariffs and taxes for the roads, but I'd mind more than a hogshead full
of manure if the smugglers got off with using the roads and then coming
into the city and selling for less than I could."
   "Father ... no one sells for less."
   "They could. Aye, they could. Take stuff in Spidlaria and sneak
through Axalt or take the old back roads from Tyrhavven, and afore you
know it they'd be in the Market Square."
   "Doesn't everyone pay the taxes?" Cerryl asked.
   "No. Even all the mages in the Halls couldn't find every ferret who
turns a good. That's not the task of the city patrol, either. They keep
the peace, not the trade laws. Thank the light, don't need armsmen to
make trade and tariffs work, not in the city, anyway. See... there's
coins in Fairhaven, and the best roads are the White highways, the ones
that can take the big wagons." Layel shrugged. "So traders and exchanges
are here. Smaller traders can take carts over the back roads, but most
times they can't carry that much, and the Traders' Guild makes sure the
road gauges are kept."
   "The road gauges?" asked Leyladin.
   Cerryl had the feeling she had asked the question for him, but he was
grateful. He'd never heard of the road gauges.
   "You should remember, Daughter. If a road is more than four cubits
wide, it's a highway, and the ruler must collect tariffs, and only those
with the medallions may use it. See, that way, the pony traders have to
go on the slow and muddy tracks that wind out of the way. And most times,
a trader with fast teams and wagons is a prosperous trader, and the great
highways are fast."