"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 2 - With a Single Spell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

had described a castle as a great pile of stone, leading him to believe that
some were camouflaged, and he was afraid that he might mistake this one for a
natural outcropping.
He need not have worried; Morria Castle towered up quite unmistakably
atop a low cliff, with no fewer than six turrets jutting above its
battlements.
"Will we be putting in there?" he asked, noticing the small harbor below
the cliff.
"No," a sailor replied briefly.
"What's our course, then?"
The crewman looked him over. "You've been to sea before?" He spoke with
the accent of Ethshar of the Spices.
"My father was a captain, and I worked my passage to Ethshar," Tobas
replied.
The sailor nodded. "Well, we'll be cruising down the length of Morria
here, and on past Stralya, and then up the river at Londa to Ekeroa, where
we'll put your party ashore. No stops; I think your leader is afraid he'd lose
some of you if we put in anywhere before that. I wouldn't be surprised if he's
right, in fact, he'll probably lose a couple during the overland trip. It's a
good seven leagues of rough travel from Ekeroa to Dwomor Keep."
"You've been there?"
"Not I!" The sailor laughed, though Tobas saw nothing humorous in the
question. "No, I've never been there, but all the traffic from Dwomor comes
along the same route. There isn't any other way, I suppose."
"Oh. Ah... have you heard anything about this dragon?"
"A little. Rumors say it's a fifty-footer, that's a bad size, big enough
to be smart and strong, small enough to be fast and vicious. It breathes fire,
they say, but that might be an exaggeration. Some people seem to think all
dragons do."
Tobas shivered. "You're not very encouraging."
 "Oh, don't worry," the sailor said. "It's not all your problem. Look at
all these other heroes coming to kill it. And this is just the group from
Ethshar of the Spices; there are bound to be others as well. Chances are the
old king will be sending an entire army of volunteers against the poor beast,
and you'll be lucky to get a few whacks at its tail." He paused. "Assuming
they don't all back out, anyway. It's a mystery to me why he didn't just hire
a real expert; there must be some. Maybe he couldn't find any."
Tobas, who had wondered the same thing, glanced at his comrades, those
who were on deck, at any rate. Tillis was staring eagerly ahead, holding onto
a foremast shroud and staggering every time the ship rolled. Arnen was talking
to a knot of off-watch sailors by the mainmast; Tobas thought he saw the flash
of coins and suspected that the group was involved in some sort of wager.
Three others -- Peren the White, Arden Adar's son, and a fifteen-year-old
orphan girl named Azraya of Ethshar whom Tobas suspected of being not merely a
fool but actually insane -- were in various places on deck.
The other three were presumably below somewhere, still being seasick.
Peren, whose cognomen came from his bone-white hair and pale skin, had been
sick the first day, but recovered quickly; the others had not been bothered.
None of them looked much like dragon slayers to Tobas. He was, so far as
he knew, the only magician in the bunch; Peren had the only real sword, and