"Watt-Evans,.Lawrence.-.Ethshar.2.-.Single.Spell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

Eventually, however, he arrived at his destination, only to find it empty and deserted hardly surprising, as dawn was still more than two hours off. He settled down in a doorway to wait.
He was shaken roughly awake, and sat up, blinking.
What in Hell are you doing sleeping there? Don't you know thats against the law? If you havent got anyplace of your own, you go sleep on Wall Street with the other beggars, you don't sleep here! We don't allow vagrants on the city streets. The red-kilted soldier glared down at him, his left hand on his hip and his right on the hilt of his sword.
Oh... Tobas managed, I must have dozed off. Thinking as best he could under the circumstances, he added, Im meeting a recruiter here.
What kind of a recruiter? the soldier asked suspiciously. For the Guards?
Ah, no, Tobas said, hoping desperately that the soldier would not be offended by a lack of interest in a military career. From the Small Kingdoms. He was not actually sure what sort of recruiter he would choose, but that seemed reasonable.
One of those, ha? Thats trouble enough, Id say, without my adding to it. Suit yourself, boy. But if I catch you sleeping in the streets of Shiphaven again I'll flog you half to death and then turn you over to the slavers this is a respectable neighborhood.
Yes, sir, Tobas agreed immediately.
Ishould turn you over to the slavers now, you know; thats the penalty for vagrancy. Even a foreigner should know that.
But I just dozed off! I wasnt really sleeping here! Tobas spoke before the significance of that foreigner could sink in.
All right, boy, I said Ishould, not that I will. You can go but I'll keep an eye on you, and you better be telling the truth about waiting for a recruiter.
Tobas nodded desperately, praying that the man hadnt recognized his Pirate Town accent. The soldier seemed satisfied. He stepped back and allowed the Freelander to get to his feet.
Beyond the soldier Tobas could see that the sky was grey with the approaching dawn, and that already a few men and one woman, the princess he had seen almost two days before were standing here and there about the square, waiting for potential customers. Eager to be rid of the soldier, Tobas headed directly for the nearest, a middle-aged man in green-dyed deerskin.
Ho, there, boy, the man said at Tobas approach, are you looking for a quick and easy road to wealth and glory? Im looking for a few brave souls who are willing to help my homeland of Dwomor in its hour of need.
What sort of hour of need? Tobas asked warily. A war?
Oh, no, my lad! Not a war at all! Merely a minor nuisance thats been harrying a few of our far-flung mountain outposts.
Bandits?
Before the recruiter could answer, the soldier was at Tobas shoulder.
Is this the one? he demanded.
Terrified at the prospect of being caught in a lie and sold into slavery, as either vagrant or enemy alien, Tobas nodded. This is he, sir.
You're signing this boy up? the soldier asked the recruiter.
The recruiter was not about to pass up an opportunity like this. Yes, indeed, sir, its all agreed!
All right, then; get on with it. He turned and stalked away.
Tobas watched him go, then turned back to the recruiter and asked, Now, whats this nuisance of yours? Bandits?
First, lad, I'll ask you to sign here. He pulled a document from his sleeve.
Oh, no, Tobas protested, not until I know whats going on!
Oh, indeed? Shall I call back that fine soldier and tell him I made a mistake, and that I never saw you before this morning?
Tobas glanced at the soldiers retreating back, and reluctantly accepted the proferred pen. He signed his name neatly, Tobas of Telven, then handed back the pen and demanded, All right, whats this nuisance?
Its not bandits, its a dragon. Its been eating people up in the mountains and when it doesnt eat people it eats sheep, which is almost as bad.
A dragon? Tobas stared for a moment, then looked after the soldier again, wondering how bad slavery could be.
Oh, its not that bad, the recruiter said. And the reward is really something worth having the hand of a princess in marriage, a respected position for life at Dwomor Keep, and best of all, one thousand gold pieces!
Tobas gaped stupidly for several seconds. A hundredweight of gold? he squeaked at last.
Thats right.
After all, he thought, how dangerous could a dragon be? Every well-stocked wizard had a jar of dragons blood on his shelves, and the legends said that during the Great War dragons had been tamed and trained. A reward of that magnitude was worth a little risk with that much money he could, as his advisor had suggested, come back and buy a few spells. Not that hed need to; he could live quite comfortably for the rest of his life on that much! And all that without even considering the position or the princess.
The princess he was not at all sure he wanted to marry anyone as yet, princess or otherwise. If one of the prettier young women in Telven had shown an interest he might well have married, but they had never really taken him seriously after he apprenticed himself to old Roggit, and he was not eager to wed a stranger, someone from an entirely different background than his own. Well, if by some miracle he somehow did kill the dragon, surely he need not acceptall the reward; let some worthy prince marry her. Tobas would settle for the money.
Of course, he thought, he mustnt count the money before he had it; he had no idea how to kill a dragon. He knew almost nothing about dragons. He had never seen any, but they had figured in various stories he had heard as a child; they reportedly came in various sizes and shapes and colors. Some were said to breathe fire; some were said to speak in various languages, and to be as dangerous with their clever tongues as with their claws and teeth. During the Great War both sides had reportedly trained them to kill the enemy. A dragon could be almost anything. He would need to look the situation over carefully, and see just what the story was, what sort of a dragon this Dwomor had roaming the hills. If the odds looked too bad and realism told him that dragon-slaying couldnt be easy, if these people had sent a recruiter all the way to Ethshar to find volunteers he would simply leave. At least he would be somewhere new; Dwomor, whatever and wherever it might be, might well have more opportunities available to him than Ethshar. He would not be an enemy there simply by virtue of his homeland, either; he had never heard of anyone sinking or capturing ships from any place called Dwomor.
He could not possibly be much worse off wandering in Dwomor than wandering in Ethshar, he told himself, and at least as a recruited dragon-slayer he wouldnt have to worry about being sold into slavery as a vagrant.
All right, he said, youve got a recruit. When do we leave?
The recruiter smiled. Oh, not for some time yet; Im hoping to bring back a dozen young adventurers like yourself. He raised his voice and began calling to the handful of Ethsharites entering the market square, Heres your chance for riches and glory! A chance to travel and see the world! Come over here, folks, and let me tell you all about it!
Tobas stomach growled, and he sighed. He was committed now; he would either have to face a dragon of unknown size and ferocity, or break his signed agreement and desert somewhere in the Small Kingdoms. He could not stay in Ethshar.
At the very least, if the recruiter wanted Tobas to reach Dwomor well enough to go dragon-hunting, the blackmailing scoundrel would have to feed him some time soon.

Chapter Eight

When they finally boarded the ship there were nine of them in all; the recruiter seemed well pleased with his catch.
Tobas was not well pleased with anything. His companions seemed to be either fools or blackguards, which made him wonder which category he belonged in. The ship was small, crowded, and stank of fish, and Tobas had doubts about its seaworthiness. Worst of all, the meals were sparse and unappetizing, consisting largely of stale bread and ill-flavored cheese served with cheap, warm beer.
Even this food, however, was better than nothing, and his narrow, scratchy hammock was better than sleeping in the streets.
He could not quite bring himself to complain to the recruiter about the conditions, but by the second night at sea he could no longer resist complaining tosomeone, and unburdened himself to the rather plump, baby-faced young man roughly his own age in the adjoining hammock.
Oh, but its anadventure! Tillis Tagaths son burbled happily. Hardship and sorrow toughen a man for battle!
Tillis, in Tobas opinion, was very definitely one of the fools among the recruits.