"David,.Peter.-.Sir.Apropos.3.-.Tong.Lashing" - читать интересную книгу автора (David Peter)

"...and, ideally, that no damned or accursed magic-using weavers come anywhere
near my ship," he concluded.
My mouth opened and closed without words emerging for a moment. "Weavers... are
a problem?" I asked.
"You get magic users on your boat, and you're guaranteed disaster," Captain
Stout told me forcefully. Then he squinted, apparently processing belatedly what
I'd just said. "How can you guarantee good weather? She's a... what?"
"An amateur weather predictor," I said immediately. "Charts storms and such. And
she told me there's going to be nothing but good weather and smooth sailing for
the next three weeks."
"Good weather and smooth sailing where?"
"Everywhere," I told him without hesitation. "Everywhere. In the world. It's the
damnedest thing. Never seen anything like it."
His thick eyebrows knit. Then he laughed with such abruptness that it jolted me,
and he said, "If that's what your woman thinks, then the odds are that she's
going to remain an amateur for a very, very long time." Then he clapped me on
the shoulder as if we were old mates and told me to bring my young lady by so he
could inspect the cut of her jib.
Personally, I didn't think Sharee was going to want the old salt inspecting any
cuts of her at all, but I smiled affably and went off to find her.
I headed around to the other side of the pub and then stopped. There was
Sharee... but she was going out a side door, in the company of three rather
large men.
I gripped my walking staff tightly. The staff was an exceptionally formidable
weapon that had been assisting me in and out of scrapes for over half my life.
There was a carving of a lion wrestling a dragon on one end, and a sharp blade
could be triggered to snap out of the dragon's mouth for use in combat. In
addition, with a twist the staff could be separated into two halves and each
used as a devastating cudgel.
Not that I was anxious to get into any sort of fight. I never was. Then again, I
was hoping I wouldn't have to. If I followed Sharee outside and matters appeared
dire, I could whistle for Mordant and he would emerge from hiding and rip the
throats out of these likely felons in no time at all, while I would stand by and
check over their corpses for valuables. It all seemed a very credible plan to
me.
I couldn't tell if the three men were forcing Sharee to go out with them. All I
knew was that they were gone and I was going to follow them. I moved quickly,
stepping through the door into what turned out to be an alleyway alongside the
pub.
What I saw astounded me.
Sharee had her arm extended and Mordant was sitting perched upon it. She had her
cape coiled around her forearm to protect it from his rather formidable claws.
The three men were making soft noises of admiration, and the largest of themЧa
broad-shouldered, mustached man wearing a large gray cloak and white tunicЧwas
even scratching Mordant under the chin and being rewarded with gentle "cooing"
sounds.
"What the hell is all this?" I demanded, startling them. One of them reached to
his side and I heard the unmistakable hiss of steel against leather as he
prepared to draw a sword. This didn't sit particularly well with me, as the
prospect of fighting generally didn't. But I was just annoyed enough not to back