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

Arden, between them in age, was the only particularly large, strong one. It
was confusing, having both an Arnen and an Arden, at least they had no two
with exactly the same name, and no one named Kelder. Practically every village
in the Free Lands, and presumably every street in Ethshar, held a Kelder or
two.
Tobas classed Arnen and two of the trio struck down by seasickness as
scoundrels and the other five as various sorts of fool. Peren, a tall, thin,
frail fellow two or three years older than Tobas, seemed determined to prove
he was stronger than anyone else, which he obviously wasn't, though he might
well outclass Tobas; Arden, a big man in his twenties, was simply stupid;
Azraya, fifteen and wild, was perpetually angry about something and would
willfully misinterpret anything said to her as an insult; Tillis was lost in
ancient legends of heroism; and the seasick Elner seemed to honestly believe
he could single-handedly slay the dragon and, in his lucid moments before
succumbing to the ship's motion, had already been bragging about how he would
spend his reward money.
The scoundrels talked less and appeared far more dangerous, but Tobas
thought it far more likely that they would kill their comrades than that they
would kill a dragon. Knives, lies, and stealth would not be much use against
dragons.
He hoped that Dwomor did have other recruits, because he did not believe
this bunch could kill even a small dragon.
Of course, that meant that he wasn't going to get rich.
Oh, well, he thought, perhaps there would be other opportunities in
Dwomor. He took a last look at Morria Castle, then turned and went below.
Dusk of that third day found the ship approaching the mouth of the river,
not the Great River, someone explained, but another, the largest in the Small
Kingdoms, which had half a dozen names. The Londa River seemed to be the most
popular label. It flowed south from the mountains, then hooked to the west to
reach the sea; they would be following it north to the lake that was more or
less its source.
It seemed odd to Tobas that there was no castle guarding the mouth; he
mentioned it to one of the sailors.
"I think there was a castle, once," he replied. "But we're on the border
between Stralya and Londa here, and it probably got destroyed in a border war.
Or maybe it fell into the sea, the river's wearing down those cliffs, you
know."
Tobas nodded. He was about to ask another question when a roar from the
bow answered him before the words left his mouth; the anchor had just been
dropped. No attempt would be made to navigate the river by night.
 The crew lifted anchor at dawn. By the time Tobas had eaten his meager
breakfast, they were in sight of Kala Keep.
The name was misleading, as the keep itself was part of a large castle
that stood within a walled town. Boats of every sort lined the riverfront.
One boat, bearing a large red and gold banner, pulled up beside the snip.
Tobas noticed that it could move far faster by means of four oars than the
ship moved beneath full sail; the wind, which had never in the course of the
voyage been particularly strong, was dying, cut off by the surrounding hilly
land.
A long discussion ensued between the ship's captain and someone in the