"McKenna,.Juliet.E.-.Einarinn.02.-.Swordsman's.Oath" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

anyone moving who might be thinking about trying to stop. My own purse had
lightened by a good measure on the road, common coin gone to those who would
take it or else spent on as much bread as I could reasonably carry, so I had
something I could casually offer those still clinging to the shreds of their
dignity.
I rode to the head of the queue, not about to risk hanging about and getting
drawn into the quarrels erupting here and there along the line.
УRein it in.Ф A burly man-at-arms leveled his pike to bar my way and the rest of
his troop stopped lounging on the parapet of the bridge.
УGood day to you.Ф I dismounted and nodded a precisely calculated half-salute.
УIs there a fee for crossing the bridge?Ф
He eyed me a little uncertainly. УThat depends on who you are.Ф
I bet it did; on whether one was a desperate peasant willing to give up a share
of any hoarded coin worth having, or a fleeing mercenary who could end up
costing a lax border guard a flogging if he slipped past and was caught looting
or worse. Caladhrian lords know full well the bloody chaos of Lescar would soon
spill over to choke their lands if it were not for the depth and swirling
current of the Rel, and they take guarding the few bridges suitably seriously.
УI am a Formalin princeТs sworn man.Ф I pulled my amulet from the neck of my
shirt and held it out.
УWhatТs your business in Caladhria?Ф the man asked, open-mouthed.
УMy PatronТs,Ф I replied crisply but politely.
He didnТt know what to say to that but he didnТt lower his pike either.
УHere.Ф I held out my hand and he closed his stained fingers on a couple of good
Formalin Marks, not the flimsy leaded coin of Lescar. УGive some woman on her
own with children a free passage, why donТt you?Ф
He cracked a gap-toothed smile at that. УI reckon I could.Ф
He planted his pike on its butt and my horseТs hooves rang on the planks of the
broad bridge. Formalin-built Old Empire foundations were still solidly defying
the murky flow of the mighty Rel, as you would expect, and the intermittently
renewed woodwork above was dark from a fresh coat of pitch. More men with pikes
lined the sides, ready for any threat of trouble. I stopped by one who looked
barely old enough to use a blade for shaving, let alone for defending his LordТs
domains.
I noted the colors and badge on his overlarge livery. УAre you Lord AdrinТs
men?Ф
He nodded cautious agreement. УThatТs right.Ф
УIТm heading for a place called Cote. Which road do I take?Ф
He frowned at me. УWhich Cote would that be, then, mester?Ф
I frowned in turn, perplexed. УHow do you mean?Ф
УWell, for Upper Cote, Spring Cote, Cote in the Clay and Small Cote you go
upstream, Cotinwood and Hill Cote are downstream, and youТd want the west high
road for Nether Cote and Cote Fane.Ф This being Caladhria, the lad was genuinely
trying to be helpful, not just tweaking my nose.
УWhereТs Lord AdrinТs main residence?Ф
УHeТm visiting Duryea, his wifeТs people, been there since the Equinox.Ф
УAnd where does he live when heТs not visiting?Ф
УAll over.Ф
The ladТs painstaking Formalin, doubtless learned from some local scholar, was
oddly accented and I wasnТt at all sure he was understanding me fully. The