"S. M. Stirling and Holly Lisle - The Rose Sea" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stirling S. M)

Phew! Uncle would find that bit of gossip fascinating. He was always talking about what grand warriors the bloody mad Krevaulti
mountaineers were. Warriors and tinkers, she thought. In between revolts.

Not everybody in the New Empire of Tykis liked playing second flute to the Tykissians, her own people. The Krevaulti were about
the only ones who tried to do anything serious about it, though.

The soldiers' long pikes swayed to the rip-thrip-rip of the drums and the whine of sackpipes. Sergeants with half-pikes marched at
their sides, snapping orders to them and the bystanders alike. The troops went by with a swing and the crash of hobnails, and then
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they were gone and the crowds closed in behind them.

Karah caught the flash of red out of the corner of her eye, and looked across the street. That was Konzin; Karah was almost certain.
The man's back was to her and he was still dickering with one of the runty little Derkinoi over some piece of local tripe. But he
wore a red hat She knew no one else who would taunt the gods in such outlandish garb. Karah cupped her hands to her mouth and
bellowed over the noise of the crowds, "Heya! Konzin! I'm ready t' get outta here!"

Konzin's head jerked up and around, and his eyes narrowed "A moment, madine!" He turned back to the Derkinoi. Karah waited,
watching him above the bustling crowds in the street. She'd never known Konzin to be much of a shopper—she wondered what a
seedy backstreet vendor had to offer that would interest him.

The chief herdsman on the Grenlaarin ranch finished his dicker, swung into his saddle, and trotted down the street toward Karah's
inn without so much as looking back at her. Karah had to fight her way through the crowds and hurry her mount over the damned
cobbled road to catch up with him. She sighed. Konzin had carried a burr under his skin the whole trip—this was the first time
Karah had done the trading instead of him. He wasn't happy. She knew it. But there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

At least he'd have to admit she got a good price.

She caught up with him. "I got seven crowns a head for the herd."

He raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. "War prices," he said, then looked straight ahead and kept riding.

Just be that way, then, Karah thought. It's not like I don't know they're war prices—and not like I don't know you could have done
the same thing. She tried not to let him make her angry. He'd been in charge of trading the horses for the Grenlaarin ranch for a
long time. She knew she had to understand it was hard for him to let go.

She and Konzin rode in silence. Karah forced herself not to rubberneck as they moved through Derkin's narrow back streets,
breasting the crowds like water at a river-crossing. Derkin was big, full of twisting streets and alleys, nearly all paved. A person
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could ride all day and barely cross from the north gate to the south, and many of the buildings were four and even five stories high,
all stone or brick-built.

They crossed the narrow wood bridge over an evil-smelling canal, passed one of the Temples of the Three—small, since most of
the locals were still heathen—and turned off into the walled courtyard that fronted Karah's inn.

Karah said, "Well, then. Have everyone here first light" She touched cheeks and brow—a gesture of both courtesy and dismissal.