"Cunningham, Elaine - Forgotten Realms - Starlight And Shadows Trilogy 02 - Tangled Webs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cunningham Elaine)

Ibn folded his arms. "Not so, if you plan to eat. I have command during the night hours. On my watch you'll help with the provisions or you'll go without."

Liriel gritted her teeth as she held the man's implacable gaze, and she entertained herself with fantasies involving traditional draw methods of retaliation. Artistic dismemberment was a favorite indulgence. Slow-working poisons added a piquant ambiance. Giant scorpions played a significant role. The gist of her musings must have shown on her face, for when she suddenly whirled and seized a harpoon from the weapon rack, Ibn backpedaled fast and dove for cover behind a barrel of salted fish.

Nor was he the only one to think ill of her intentions. A strong hand seized the drow's wrist and spun her about. "What are you thinking, little raven?" demanded Fyodor. Liriellet out a hiss of exasperation and jerked her hand free. "I'm thinking offishing! According to that idiot behind the barrel, I'm expected to help with provisions. I assume it's either that or cook!"

"Ah." A glint of humor appeared in the young warriors eyes, and he turned to Ibn's hiding place. "I have traveled with her for many days, my friend. In this you may trust me: it would be the wiser course to let her gather the food." The sailor picked himself up, all the while glaring with undisguised hatred at the drow. Liriel blew him a kiss and then strode to the rail, harpoon in hand. She kicked offher boots and quickly peeled off her clothes, for they would only hamper her in the water. All she needed was the Windwalker, her amulet of Lloth, and a few of the daggers and knives strategically bound with thin leather straps to her forearms and calves.

From the corner of her eye, Liriel saw Fyodors frown and the warning glance he sent toward the other men on board. Hrolf had forbidden the men to touch her; Fyodor's grim stare commanded them to avert their eyes.

The drow's exasperation increased fourfold. She had yet to accustom herself to human notions of modesty. Drow had a keen appreciation for beauty-including that of the body-and had few taboos about nudity. The main reason they wore clothing at all was because it offered protection from attack and hiding places for weapons!

Ignoring her too-fastidious friend, Liriel climbed the railing. She tossed the harpoon into the water and dove in cleanly after it.

The icy shock stopped her heart. One beat lost, then the rhythm picked up again, thundering in Liriel's ears as she struggled to move her benumbed limbs. The drow was accustomed to the waters of the Underdark, which came from melting ice in lands far above her homeland, but this was cold. She knew she could not remain in these waters for long. Getting down to business, she broke the surface, grabbed the floating harpoon and a lungful of air, and dove deep.

Starlight filtered through the water, turning the sea into a silvery, dreamlike world. It was beautiful, but Liriel knew better than to linger. In moments the drow marked her prey, a large fish favored by the pirates for the pink flesh that tasted equally good raw, cooked, or smoked. She lifted the harpoon to her shoulder and hurled. The barbed weapon flashed through the water, trailing a length of thin rope behind it and taking the fish through the gills. Liriel immediately swam for the surface, the rope's end in hand. As she rose toward the boat, she noted that there were several strange markings carved on its underside-curving patterns oddly reminiscent of drow script.

Calling upon her levitation magic, she shot out of the water and floated lightly up to the railing where Fyodor awaited, grim and watchful. He'd taken off his cloak and had it ready for her. With a nod of thanks, she took the warm garment and handed him the rope. The fish was at least half her weight, and she could hardly be expected to haul it up herself.

As she wrapped herself in the cloak, Liriel noticed that Ibn was looking past her out to sea. His face was unreadable, but an air of malevolent satisfaction rose from him like a miasma. Liriel knew with certainty that this time Ibn would not speak his mind if asked.

Well enough-there were other ways of getting answers to her questions.

Beneath the cover of Fyodors cloak, the drow's hand crept up to her symbol of Lloth. Her fingers closed around the obsidian disk, and she silently cast a mind-reading spell, one of the fIrst lessons taught to novice priestesses. From Ibn's thoughts she took a single word-shark-and several quick images: a triangular fin slicing through the water like a small gray sail; rapacious jaws lined with rows of sharp teeth; a small, dark-skinned body torn past recognition.

So. This shark was a hunter, a dangerous one, and if Ibn had his way, she would be its prey. Again, well enough-she was forewarned.

Angry now, Liriel strode over to the weapon rack and selected another harpoon, this one larger and heavier than the first.

"Going down again?" Ibn asked casually as he refilled his pipe.

From the corner of her eye, the drow gave him a long, measuring gaze. No sign of his intent showed on his face, and not once did his eyes shift toward the place where he'd spotted the shark. Liriel noted this with a touch of perverse admiration. She had grown up in Menzoberranzan and had survived many such games, but few were the drow who could play them better than this red-bearded human. At that moment Fyodor pulled the fish over the rail. It dropped to the deck, still thrashing weakly and splashing icy water upon the boots of the men who'd gathered to watch the peculiar scene.

"I'm going back in for another fish," Liriel announced. Taking full advantage of the audience, she turned to face Fyodor and then dropped his cloak to the deck. "I'm afraid I've gotten your cloak all wet. Would you mind getting me a warm blanket? I think there's one somewhere in Hrolf's cabin. Ibn will haul up the next fish for me. . . . Won't you?" she asked, turning to the first mate.

Ibn did not respond, though Fyodor gaveher a narrowed, suspicious look. She returned it with a smile. Of course the warrior knew she was up to something, but he had to choose between staying to question her, or doing something about her disconcerting nudity. With a deep sigh, Fyodor chose the latter and disappeared into the hold.

Liriel tied the loose end of the harpoon's rope to a winch and attached a float to the line. The rope was not all that long, but she didn't think she'd have to go very far to find the shark. She'd taken the first fish not far from the ship. If this shark was like any of the other predators she knew, it would be drawn by the scent of blood.

The drow plunged in again, dreamily imagining the look on Ibn's face when he hauled up her catch and came face-to-fang with this shark ofhis.

Liriel swam quickly toward the site ofher first kill, taking a slightly different path downward. She was more at home in the water than were most drow, but she knew she was out of her element and kept careful watch. The image she'd taken from Ibn's mind-the sight ofher own mangled body-was still vivid.

The drow's only warning was a flash of silver on the outermost edge of her vision. Instantly she whirled, the harpoon on her shoulder and ready to throw.

To her shock, Liriel found herselffacing not a shark, but a young male elf-the first nondrow elf she had ever encountered.

The faerie elfwas every bit as strange and alien a creature as she'd been taught to believe. His short-cropped hair was green, and his skin was mottled with a silvery green pattern that seemed to waver with the movement of the water. There were gills, like those of a fish, on his neck, and delicate webbing between the fingers of the hand that gripped a ready spear. He was no taller than Liriel, but he was well made and he held his weapon with the air of one who knew its use. Yet he did not strike. He merely stared at the drow with openmouthed astonishment.