"Roger E. Moore - Spelljammer - Cloakmaster Cycle 03 - The Maelstrom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Roger E)

on poking at the topic of Teldin's love-life at least once a day.
"I'll look around for something," Teldin said vaguely.
Aelfred grinned. "That's the idea. Good luck, then. Don't let the elves put you on a waiting list." Aelfred
slapped Teldin on the shoulder, then strode away and was lost in the crowded market within seconds.
Teldin pushed the conversation out of his mind and tried to make sense of the madness around him. It
struck him that he was being introduced to some of the limitless and alien possibilities of wildspace
civilization and commerce, and he was content to soak it in for a moment before moving on. He wondered
again if he should have commanded his cloak to disguise his features, changing him into another person
entirely, but again he decided against it. There was no point in trying to fool the very people whose help he
needed most.
Teldin knew he was not especially remarkable in appearance, being of average height, weight, and
looks for a human male of thirty-three years from his now-distant homeworld of Krynn. His tanned face
and hands were lined from years of farming and soldiering, more recently scarred by fighting in wildspace.
His sandy brown hair had grown longer; he kept it brushed back and trimmed, but the feel of it was more
pleasing now than the short-cropped style he had once favored. He'd even grown a mustache and had been
please'd with the result, though he still shaved the rest of his beard whenever possible.
His clothing-except for his cloak-wasn't particularly striking, either. He'd always liked quiet tones.
Today he favored a well-worn blue cotton shirt and long, stone-gray trousers belted with dark leather. The
brass hilt of a short sword stood out from his left side, strapped to a second leather belt. Two worlds ago,
Teldin had found a comfortable pair of high-topped boots, simply done, made from the rust-colored hide of
an alien beast whose name Teldin couldn't begin to pronounce. In contrast to Aelfred's careless but often
dashing dress, Teldin looked quiet and somber, not one to attract attention. Given the events of late, he was
quite happy to be seen and forgotten.
Grandfather would have loved to have seen this, Teldin thought, and he smiled. Old Halev had always
wondered what, if anything, lay beyond the moons of Krynn. He'd dearly loved tales of mystery and
adventure, but Teldin suspected the old man would never have believed a word of what had happened to his
grandson in the last few months. Still, he would have loved to hear the story.
Teldin pulled his long blue cloak close around his shoulders again as he started uphill into the noisy
crowd. This little world certainly looked big enough when you were walking on it, he thought. Teldin had
looked down at the Rock of Bral with the other crewmen as the Probe had flown in for docking. From
space the Rock had looked like a mile-long potato coveted by a city, complete with streets, buildings, and
trees. Aelfred had had the ship dock at the small end of the Rock; the bigger end, uphill from the docks,
was given over to the estates of the local prince and a narrow lake where gullions congregated by the
hundreds. While the crew was unloading the cargo, Aelfred had offered to give Teldin a quick tour through
the city. Teldin had been grateful for the help, but he was happier now that Aelfred had found other things
to do. Being on his own was Teldin's natural state. He knew he would have lived out his natural life on
Krynn, hoeing crops and caring for his animals, needing only occasional company. It was easier to get
things done by himself. Nowadays, it was safer, too. It wasn't wise to trust many people, thanks to his
cloak. It had become the ultimate scavenger-hunt prize to the worst son of foes.
Teldin scanned the crowd for any sign of Aelfred's face, but he could see nothing of the grinning
warrior. He almost felt relieved. Teldin was all too aware of the dangers he presented to everyone who
traveled with him, and he knew his few living friends were aware of the risks, too. Aelfred, Julia, and a
handful of others had suffered terrible injuries because of him, and uncounted numbers more, friends and
enemies alike, had died in awful ways. If he weren't looking for the elves, he knew he probably would have
disguised himself using the cloak, or at least would have shrunk the cloak until only the silver clasp, chain,
and a tiny bit of cloth showed, concealing its true nature. Removing the cloak was impossible and always
had been. He couldn't unfasten the cloak's lion-headed catch, and the cloak held unpleasant surprises for
those who tried to cut it or remove it from him by force.
Teldin slowed, seeing a knot of beings ahead of him. Some Oriental humans were arguing politely with
a horse-sized creature that looked like a brown praying mantis, apparently about a payment of some kind.