"Mckenna,.Juliet.E.-.Einarinn.01.-.Thief's.Gamble" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories) Casuel gaped at the mirror, appalled at what he was hearing. 'I don't believe it! That girl isn't just some slut with a taste for the long grass, she's a common lockpick!' He shook his head.
Once again, agitation unravelled Casuel's spell. He cursed and slammed the shutters closed against the cutting wind. 'They're planning to rob someone?' Allin looked at him, aghast. 'That's not the worst of it! Think about it, they could very well succeed! I've always suspected Shivvalan used intrigue to advance himself, and that Darni is no better than a common blade for hire. A season and a half of my painstaking work is going to be overlooked yet again because that pair have all the morals of wharf-rats!' Casuel looked down with surprise at his hands, shaking with impotent frustration. 'Raeponin pox the pair of them!' 'What are you going to do about it?' Casuel opened his mouth to deny any such idea but stopped, open-mouthed, staring at nothing for a moment. He coughed and took a reflective sip of ale. 'Well, if they're prepared to use such despicable tricks, I have a duty to do something about it, don't I? What if it all goes wrong? If a plot like that is traced back to a wizard and an Archmage's agent as well, the reputation of Hadrumal will be strung up on the gallows along with that red-headed bitch!' Allin's trusting, respectful gaze spurred him on. Casuel lifted a long, thick book from his bag. 'What is that?' 'It's a set of itineraries, maps of the coach roads,' he replied with satisfaction. 'Be quiet a moment.' It took him a few moments to locate the roads he needed, and cross-referencing wasn't easy, as he had to unfold several of the lengths of paper at the same time. Casuel cursed under his breath. Hanchet, there it was. It was a small place, wasn't it? Only really there to serve the bridges on either side as two rivers drew together, not a real town in the Tormalin sense of the word. 'You know, we could be there by the day after tomorrow, look,' he breathed at last. He refolded the maps of the roads with trembling hands. 'No, we have to be realistic. We have no idea of whom we would need to contact, for a start. All we know is they're looking for someone who used to be chamberlain to Lord Armile.' 'If it's anything like back home, that should be enough to find him. Everyone knows everyone else's business in a village that size,' Allin said timidly. Casuel looked at her thoughtfully. 'Local gossips would make hay with something like that, wouldn't they? I know my mother and her sewing circle would. I suppose there would be an inn where I could ask a few questions without arousing too much suspicion.' Indignation rose in Casuel's throat and he washed it away with a long draught of ale. 'How dare Ralsere and Darni think of robbing Lord Armile? Friern's one of the few fiefdoms between here and Col where the roads don't leave coaches bogged to the axles and horses muddied to the hocks! They're some of the safest roads around too, come to that; remember those footpads we saw being pelted in the stocks outside that market-hall?' 'Yes I do!' The edge to Allin's tone surprised Casuel until he realised what value a family driven from their home by the chaos of civil war would place on the rule of law. He stared across the room, eyes looking far beyond the lime-washed walls. After a long moment, he straightened up in his seat. 'I could make some enquiries of this chamberlain fellow, there could be no harm in that. If it turns out that Lord Armile has some of the books Usara wants, why shouldn't I approach him openly? Raeponin rewards the ready, that's what they say, isn't it?' 'Is it?' Allin looked blankly at him. Casuel began to pace back and forth across the uneven floorboards, audacity born of long-held resentments gradually winning over his natural caution. 'I've got to bring myself to Usara's attention, I've just got to, and that means throwing the runes at a venture, doesn't it?' He stopped, turned on his heel with a decisive air, and reached under his coat for a fat pouch of coin. 'It'll be squandering the Archmage's coin in lush coaching inns that leaves Ralsere having to steal books rather than buy them like an honest man.' He sorted the noble coin in front of him with a sneer on his face. 'I can simply ask to look at his library and then offer a fair price for those things we're looking for. Why not? Lord Armile's sure to be a reasonable man. He's nobly born after all, even if he is just some Ensaimin hedge-lord.' A superior smile curved Casuel's full lips. 'I don't think we need complicate matters by telling him we're wizards. I find travelling as a dealer in books is sufficient explanation.' She nodded hastily. 'Of course. I won't say a word to anyone.' Casuel smiled approvingly at her unquestioning obedience. 'You'll do very well in Hadrumal, my dear. You have a quick mind and the right attitude. I will make sure you get tuition at one of the best Halls.' That should be easy enough to arrange, once he had impressed Usara, hobbled Shivvalan's horses for him and secured the proper recognition that had unaccountably eluded him for so long. The echo of a remembered ache stirred in Casuel's jaw. There was still the question of Darni. Hadn't he been the last one left standing in one of Hadrumal's dockside inns when those sailors had challenged all comers to a free-for-all fist fight? It might be better if Usara kept his name out of things when he reported this disgraceful business to Planir. But then, how else could Casuel come to the attention of the Archmage? He would have to give the matter some careful thought. CHAPTER TWO Taken from: The Geography of the East being a description of lands formerly provinces of the Tormalin Empire, compiled by Marol Afmoor, Mentor and Scholar of the University of Vanam, including comprehensive recital of the principal towns, industries and wares of each. Ensaimin The name Ensaimin is a corruption of Einar sai Emmin,'the land of many races' in the tongue of Tormalin antiquity. The plural Einarinn is of course more familiar, being the ancient word for 'world'. Historians concerned with enlarging the reputation of that lost Empire represent it as a province held with the sure grip that characterised Tormalin rule of Dalasor, Lescar and Caladhria, but this is not the case. In the subjugation of Caladhria, Tormalin power pushed as far as the White River, the natural boundary between the upper reaches of the Gulf of Peorle and the mountains of the Southern Spurs, the narrowest stretch of defensible terrain in that region. At this juncture, formal contact was first made between the Tormalin Empire and the Kingdom of Solura. King Soltriss, having laid claim to all lands west of the Great Forest, sent emissaries into that as yet unclaimed territory beyond. In their travels among the indigenous inhabitants, these delegates encountered diplomats from the Emperor Correl the Stalwart, who at that time was considering the annexation of lands beyond his existing boundaries. It is indeed fortunate for those innocently dwelling on the broad plains of this fertile region that these mighty rulers each recognised the perils of attempting to expand their domains. Correl was already pushing his Cohorts north across the Dalas to possess himself of the mineral wealth of the Gidestan mountains and for his pan, Soltriss was rightly doubtful about the viability of a province that would be separated from his other domains by the impenetrable mysteries of the Great Forest. It is undeniable that the Forest Folk would have seen such encirclement as a threat and resisted with all the arcane means at their disposal. Thus the happy land of Einar Sai Emmin accrued much benefit as trade between the Tormalin Empire and the Kingdom of Solura developed in stead of conflict. Pack-horse routes became major highways east to west, Forest Folk began to travel and trade on their own account, and both Gidestan and Soluran exploration into the Dragon's Spines brought metals and gems from the north to the sea. Even traders from the wastes of Mandarkin beyond those forbidding mountains risked the dread passes to bring furs and amber to the markets of the south. Fiefdoms ruled by lordlings with self-bestowed titles rose, interspersed with the self-governing cities grown up around the unions of road and river and the few safe anchorages along the coast, to produce the patchwork character of modern Ensaimin. Rivalry in a land dependent on trade discouraged unification, and many scholars make a convincing case for seeing the subtle hands of both Tormalin and Soluran nobilities in this, alert to the benefits of maintaining a buffer between such mighty powers. THE RUNNING HOUND INN Ambafost, 14th of For-Autumn I had some vague idea of rising at dawn and heading off at the gallop; that's what people do on quests, isn't it? Not these three. When Shiv knocked on my door, it was well past sunrise and for a good long while I had been fully dressed and half-wondering if I should make a run for it. My promise not to make a run for it only applied to the day before, as far as I was concerned. We ate a leisurely breakfast in the private parlour, Darni wading through beef and onions, beer, bread, honey, more bread and sweetcakes. I asked for porridge and ignored Darni's amusement. I like porridge, and I also like to be able to walk after a meal rather than waddle. Still, it started me thinking; these three weren't scraping by and I wondered what an Archmage's agent earned in pay and expenses. When we finally set off, Shiv and Darni rode while I joined Geris in a neat two-horse carriage. I sat up front with him as the back was loaded with a couple of iron-banded coffers and everyone's baggage. The coffers looked interesting, and I wondered if Shiv had taken any precautions or whether a quiet session with my lockpicks might prove fruitful. I can get very curious about locked boxes. I concentrated on the road ahead; the last thing I wanted was for Darni or Shiv to notice my interest. Geris drove well; his hands on the reins were relaxed and he spoke to his bay horses with ease. Evidently he'd been driving for years, probably since childhood, which almost certainly meant noble blood; commoners like me are lucky to get the use of a mule. I'd been on the road for a couple of years before it was worth my while even learning to ride, and I don't suppose I'd ever have learned to drive if it hadn't been essential for a swindle Halice and I had worked in Caladhria. 'They're a nicely matched pair,' I commented after a few miles of companionable silence. 'I picked them up last spring,' Geris smiled. 'They are pretty, aren't they? Still, their paces are so good I'd have bought them if one was black and the other white. I'm not bothered about a stylish shade of coat.' |
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