"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 3 - Sword Of Bheleu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

saw there, the liquid sorrow of a dying animal.
He was slow in replying, "We have come to ask you to reconsider some of
your previous decisions. My people are not pleased by your actions in response
to our attempts to establish peaceful and profitable trade between our two
nations."
"You have forced me to rise from my sickbed because I have allowed you
insufficient opportunity to swindle my subjects?" The parody of a smile
remained, perhaps broadened. Garth, already annoyed, felt his anger piling up
within him; he began to wonder whether the Baron was exaggerating his illness.
The question was not that of a man sunk in unbearable woe; it smacked rather
of the cleverness that Garth had seen the Baron display when at the peak of
his cycle.
"We do not swindle anyone. You have compelled me to swear an oath that
is intended to humiliate me. You have exiled me from your realm for no reason
other than your personal dislike for me. The trader Galt tells me that the
tariffs and regulations you propose, should my people refuse to acknowledge
you as our overlord, are prohibitive, making peaceful trade impossible,
although we all know it would benefit Skelleth as much as Ordunin. We have
come here to ask you to correct these injustices, to benefit the people of
your village as well as ourselves."
 "What injustices? I ask nothing unreasonable!" The mocking smile was
gone; the slouch and the trembling had lessened until they were almost
imperceptible. The eyes were still desolate, though; Garth found that
disturbing.
He did not understand this man at all. His failure to understand enraged
him further. His answer was shouted, not spoken. "Nothing unreasonable? Is it
reasonable to prevent the enrichment of us all merely to feed your own bloated
ego? Do you seriously think that any overman could swear fealty to a human?"
Beside him, Galt's red eyes shifted back and forth, scanning the crowd.
He was not happy with what he saw; Garth's outburst was provoking fear and
resentment in both soldiers and civilians; this was plainly visible in their
faces. He upbraided himself mentally for allowing Garth to act as sole
spokesman; Garth was not as stupid as some overmen, nor as ignorant or
careless, but he did have a nasty temper at times, and was not trained at
restraining it. Galt, on the other hand, had spent most of his apprenticeship
learning to take in his stride the asinine behavior a trader was likely to
encounter among humans; he was sure that he could have handled this affair
with greater tact.
It would have been difficult, he thought, to have shown less tact. He
debated breaking into the conversation himself, trying to calm everyone. He
was quite sure that, if Garth was not careful, this debate could lead to
bloodshed and disaster. He cast a glance sideways at Garth, but could read
nothing in his face; before he could reach a decision his gaze was caught by
the hilt of the strange broadsword that Garth had acquired. The red gem set in
it was gleaming brightly.
The Baron, too, seemed to notice the sword as he replied to Garth's
outburst. "Do your people need this trade so desperately? You come here armed,
with a force twice the number Skelleth can muster, the least of you carrying
weapons and armor better than I can afford for myself. Your leader has a sword
set with gems. Every one of you is well-fed and healthy, as far as I can see.