"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 5 - Taking Flight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

Howmuch?
Two rounds, he admitted.
Oh, Kelder! Edara sighed.
Magic is expensive! he protested.
Kelder, Salla told him, she doesnt have any more magic thanI do! Shes an old
fake! A liar!
No, she isnt!
Yes, she is! Shes here every year, and none of her predictions have ever come
true.
Notyet, maybe, Kelder said.
Never,Kelder. Shes a fake. None of what she told you is going to come true.
Yes, it will, Kelder said. You just wait and see! He turned away, hurt and
angry, and muttered to himself, Itwill come true.
A moment later he added, Illmake it come true.
Chapter One
Kelder sat down on the grassy hilltop and set his pack down beside him. The
gods were pouring darkness across the sky, now that the sun was below the
horizon, and it was, in his considered opinion, time to stop for the night.
This would be the third night since he had left homeand by the feel of it, the
coldest yet. Which was quite unfair; this was spring, after all, and the days
were supposed to be getting warmer, not colder.
He looked down the slope at the road below, still faintly visible in the
gathering gloom as a pale strip of bare dirt between the dark expanses of
grass on either side. On the near side that grass was at the foot of the hill
he sat upon, while on the opposite side, the north, the land flattened out
remarkably.
He was beyond the hills, at any rate.
This was cattle country, so there were no tilled fields to be seen, and at
this hour all the livestock had gone home, wherever home might be. The road
below was the only work of human origin anywhere in sight.
Kelder was pretty sure that that road was the Great Highway. He stared at it
in disappointment.
It was not at all what he had expected.
He had imagined that he would find it bustling with travelers, with caravans
and wandering minstrels, escaping slaves and marching armies, as busy as a
village square on market day. He had thought it would be lined with inns and
shops, that he would be able to trot on down and find jolly company in some
tavern, where he could spend his scrupulously-hoarded coins on ale and
oranges, and then win more coins from careless strangers who dared to dice
with himand the fact that he had never played dice before did not trouble his
fantasies at all. He had envisioned himself watching a wizard perform wonders,
and then escorting a comely wench up the stairs, flinging a few bits to a
minstrel by the hearth as he passed, making clever remarks in half a dozen
languages. Everyone would admire his wit and bravery, and he would be well on
his way to fulfilling the seers prophecy.
Instead he saw nothing but a long, barren strip of hard-packed dirt, winding
its way between the hills on either side, and utterly empty of life.
He sighed, and pulled open the flap of his pack.
He should have known better, he told himself as he pulled out his blanket.
Life was not what the seers and storytellers made it out to be. Much as he