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

He sat up, the grass rustling beneath him, and rubbed the sleep from his
eyes. He tried to think. Where could he go? He had no skills that would earn
him a living; he was not particularly strong or fast or even handsome. A
little thin, just over average height, with ordinary features and dull brown
hair and eyes, there was nothing unusual about him at all physically, nothing
that would suggest a career. As far as his education was concerned, he had
learned the usual basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic and had heard the
stories that made up Freelander history and religion; but except for his
apprenticeship to Roggit, his learning and experience were nothing in any way
special. He had never been more than three leagues from Telven in his life,
save for one short voyage his father had taken him on out of Shan on the Sea,
along the coast for a few leagues and then back. He knew what little geography
every boy in the Free Lands learned, but no more. To the west and south was
the ocean, to the north and east was the Hegemony of Ethshar. If one went far
enough to the southeast, along the Ethsharitic coast, one reached the
semimythical Small Kingdoms that had once been Old Ethshar. If one went far
enough north, one reached the barbarian nations. Beyond those, the northern
edge of the world was sealed in ice, the eastern edge was burning desert, the
west was wrapped in fog, and to the south the ocean went on forever, so far as
anyone knew. He had heard descriptions of mountains and forests but had no
idea where such things might lie; all he had ever seen were the familiar
rolling green hills, graveled beaches, and villages of the Free Lands and the
vast empty ocean to the south.
Shan on the Sea, the only real town he knew at all, was less than a day's
walk to the southwest. But if he went there, what would he do? A dozen people
in Shan knew him as his father's son and would undoubtedly spread the word
about his bad luck, or, worse, try and collect on his father's old debts, both
real and imaginary. They would know his history, know that he had nothing to
offer. He was now far too old to fool anyone into offering him an
apprenticeship; even poor, half-blind, sometimes-senile old Roggit had been
suspicious about his age. He couldn't go to sea any more than he could take an
apprenticeship; he had heard that among Ethsharites a sailor might start as
late as age sixteen, and he might have passed for that, but in the Free Lands
the captains preferred to start their people young, at twelve or thirteen.
He needed to go somewhere no one would know him, that was obvious.
Anywhere in the Free Lands someone might eventually recognize him.
That meant he would have to go to Ethshar. The Hegemony of Ethshar was
the only nation sharing borders with the Free Lands.
But how could he do that? The border was dozens of leagues up the coast,
he was sure, and such a journey would mean days of walking, days in which he
would have to beg for his food or starve. And once across the border, where
would he be? In an enemy land! In the wilderness! He knew little of Ethshar
but was fairly certain that nothing of importance lay anywhere near the Free
Lands.
A league to the south lay the ocean, and every ship sailing the coast of
Ethshar passed by here, the survival of Shan and the rest of the Free Lands
depended on that fact, since, without the plunder brought home by the
privateers, the town would starve. No Ethsharitic ship ever put in at Shan
willingly, and no ship sailed from Shan bound for Ethshar, so he could not
board a ship in town. But what if he were to intercept one while at sea? He