"Kerr, Katharine - Deverry 02 - Darkspell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

Together they went out into the unwalled town, a straggling collection of round thatched houses and shops along a river. On the bank were fishing boats, an old and shabby lot, and from the look of them barely seaworthy.
СI donТt see how these folk make a living from the sea,Т Rhodry remarked.
СHush.Т Jill glanced around and made sure that no one was nearby, but still she dropped her voice to a whisper.
СThey make the boats look bad for a reason. ThereТs more than one kind of cargo that comes in under the mackerel.Т
СYe gods! You mean weТre staying in a den of smugglers?Т
СKeep your voice down! Just that.Т
OthoТs shop was on the very edge of town, across a dirt path from a field of cabbages. Rhodry was pleased when he saw that the door was no longer padlocked. When Jill opened it, silver bells tinkled overhead.
СWhoТs there?Т bellowed a deep voice.
СJill, Cullyn of CerrmorТs daughter, and another silver dagger.Т
Rhodry followed her into an empty chamber, a small wedge of the round house set off by dirty wickerwork panels. In one panel was a frayed green blanket that did duty for a door, because Otho shoved it aside and came out. Although he was only four and a half feet tall, he was perfectly proportioned and muscular at that, with arms like a miniature blacksmith. He had a heavy gray beard, neatly cropped, and shrewd dark eyes.
СWell, Jill it is,Т he said. СAnd it gladdens my heart to see you again. WhereТs your Da, and whoТs this lad?Т
СDaТs in Eldidd. He won himself a place as captain of a tierynТs warband.Т
СDid he now?Т Otho smiled in sincere pleasure. СI always thought he was too good a man to carry the silver dagger. But what have you done? Run off with this pretty face here?Т
СNow here!Т Rhodry snarled. СCullyn gave her leave to go-Т
Otho snorted in profound disbelief.
СItТs true,Т Jill broke in. СDa even pledged him to the silver dagger.Т
СIndeed?Т The smith still looked suspicious, but he let the matter drop. СWhat brings you to me, lad? Have some battle-loot to sell?Т
СI donТt. IТve come about my silver dagger.Т
СWhat have you done, nicked it or suchlike? I donТt see how any man could bruise that metal.Т
СHe wants the dweomer taken off it,Т Jill said. СCan you do that, Otho? Remove the spell on the blade?Т
The smith turned, openmouthed in surprise.
СI know cursed well itТs got one on it,Т she went on. СRhoddo, take it out and show him.Т
Reluctantly Rhodry drew the dagger from its worn sheath. It was a lovely thing, that blade, as silky as silver, but harder than steel, some alloy that only a few smiths knew how to blend. On it was graved the device of a striking falcon (CullynТs old mark, because the dagger had once belonged to him,) but in RhodryТs hand the device was almost invisible in a blaze and flare of dweomer-light, running like water from the blade.
СElven blood in your veins, is there?Т Otho snapped. СAnd a good bit of it, too.Т
СWell, thereТs some.Т Rhodry made the admission unwillingly. СI hail from the west, you see, and that old proverb about there being elven blood in Eldidd veins is true enough.Т
When Otho grabbed the dagger, the light dimmed to a faint glow.
СIТm not letting you in my workshop,Т he announced. СYou people all steal. CanТt even help it, I suppose; itТs probably the way you were raised.Т
СBy every god in the Otherlands, IТm not a thief! I was born and raised a Maelwaedd, and itТs not my cursed fault that thereТs wild blood somewhere in my clanТs quarterings.Т
СHah! IТm still not letting you into my workshop.Т He turned and pointedly spoke only to Jill. СItТs a hard thing youТre asking, lass. I donТt have true dweomer. This spell is the only one I can weave, and I donТt even understand what IТm doing. ItТs just somewhat that we pass down from father to son, those of us who know it at all, that is.Т
СI was afraid of that,Т she said with a sigh. СBut weТVe got to do somewhat about it. He canТt use it at table when it turns dweomer every time he draws it.Т
Otho considered, chewing on his lower lip.
СWell, if this were an ordinary dagger, IТd just trade you a new one without the spell, but since it was CullynТs and all, IТll try to unweave the dweomer. Maybe working it all backward will blunt the spell. But itТs going to cost you dear. ThereТs a risk in meddling with things like this.Т
After a couple of minutes of brisk haggling, Jill handed him five silver pieces, about half of the smithТs asking price.
СCome back at sunset,Т Otho said. СWeТll see if IТve been successful or not.Т
Rhodry spent the afternoon looking for a hire. Although it was too close to winter weather for warfare, he did find a merchant who was taking a load of goods back to Cerrmor. For all their dishonor, silver daggers were in much demand as caravan guards, because they belonged to a band with a reputation that kept them more honest than most. Not just any man could even become a silver dagger. A warrior who was desperate enough to take the blade had to first find another silver dagger, ride with him a while, and prove himself before he was allowed to meet one of the rare smiths who served the band. Only then could he truly Сride the long roadТ, as the daggers referred to their lives.
And if Otho could blunt the spell, Rhodry would no longer have to keep his dagger sheathed for fear of revealing his peculiar bloodlines. He hurried Jill through her dinner and hustled her along to the silversmithТs shop a little before sunset. OthoТs beard was a good bit shorter, and he no longer had any eyebrows at all.
СI should have known better than to do a favor for a cursed elf,Т he announced.
СOtho, you have our humble apologies.Т Jill caught his hand and squeezed. СAnd IТm ever so glad you didnТt get badly burned.Т
СYouТre glad? Hah! Well, come along, lad.Т
When Rhodry took the dagger, the blade stayed ordinary metal without the trace of a glow. He was smiling as he sheathed it.
СMy thanks, good smith, a thousand times over. Truly, I wish I could reward you more for the risk you ran.Т
СSo do I. ThatТs the way of your folk, though: all fine words and no hard coin.Т
СOtho, please,Т Jill said. СThereТs not even that much elven blood in him.Т
СHah! ThatТs what I say to that, young Jill. Hah!Т
All day, the People arrived at the alardan. To a grassy meadow so far west of Eldidd that only one human being had ever seen it, they came in small groups, driving their herds of horses and flocks of sheep before them. After they pastured the animals, they set up leather tents, painted in bright colors with pictures of animals and flowers. Children and dogs raced through the camp; cooking fires blossomed; the smell of a feast grew in the air. By sunset well over a hundred tents stood there. As the last fire was lit, a woman began to sing the long wailing tale of Donabel and his lost love, Adario. A harper joined in, then a drummer, and finally someone brought out a conaber, three joined reedy pipes for a drone.
Devaberiel Silverhand, generally considered the best bard in this part of the elven lands, considered unpacking his harp and joining in, but he was quite simply too hungry. He got a wooden bowl and spoon from his tent, then wandered through the feast. Each riding group, or alar to give them their Elvish name, had made a huge quantity of one particular dish. Everyone strolled around, eating a bit here and there of whatever appealed to them, while the music, talk, and laughter went on. Devaberiel was searching for Manaverr, whose alar traditionally roasted a whole lamb in a pit.
Finally he found them near the edge of the camp. A couple of young men were just digging the lamb up, while others brought over leaves to make a clean bed to receive it. Manaverr himself hurried over to greet the bard. His hair was so pale that it was almost white, and his cat-slit eyes a deep purple. They each put their left hand on the otherТs right shoulder in greeting.
СItТs a big gathering,Т Manaverr said.
СThey all knew youТd be here to do the lamb.Т
Manaverr laughed with a toss of his head. A small green sprite popped into manifestation and perched on his shoulder. When he reached up to pat her, she grinned, revealing a mouthful of pointed teeth.