"David Drake - Lord of the Isles 05 - Goddess of the Ice Realm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Drake David)

described as near everyone else aboard--Chalcus talked with Captain Rhamis bor-Harriol, a nobleman
younger than Ilna's nineteen years. From what Ilna had seen of the captain during the voyage up the
western shore of the Isles, he was a complete ninny.
That didn't matter, of course; or at any rate, it didn't matter any more than if Rhamis was being a
ninny in some job on shore. The Flying Fish's sailing master took care of navigation and the ordinary
business of the ship, limiting the captain's responsibilities to leading his men in a battle. In Ilna's opinion,
ninnies were quite sufficient for that task.
"Is something wrong, Ilna?" Merota asked from Ilna's elbow, unseen till the moment she spoke.
The nine-year-old was, as Lady Merota bos-Roriman, the orphaned heir to one of the wealthiest houses
on Ornifal. Ilna was her guardian, because... well, because Ilna had been there and nobody else Ilna
trusted was available.
The girl was related to Lord Tadai, who acted as chancellor and chief of staff while Garric was
with the fleet and those who held the posts officially were back in the palace at Valles. Tadai would've
taken care of Merota, but to Tadai that meant marrying the child to some noble as quickly as possible.
Merota was young? All the more reason to pass the trouble of raising her on to somebody else.

Ilna and her brother Cashel had been left to raise themselves after their grandmother died when
they were seven. Their father Kenset had never said who their mother was; he'd kept a close tongue on
the question of where he'd been when he went off adventuring. The only task Kenset applied himself to
after coming home with the infants was drinking himself to death, and at that he quickly succeeded.
Ilna and Cashel had survived--survived and prospered, most would say. They were honored
members of the royal court, after all. But Ilna wouldn't willingly see another child deal with what she'd
gone through herself. If that meant she had to take responsibility for the child, well, she'd never been one
to shirk responsibility.

"Nothing's wrong with the world, Merota," Ilna said. She smiled faintly and corrected herself,
"Nothing more than usual, that is."

Which is enough and more than enough! she thought, but it wasn't the time to say that, if there
was ever a time.

"And as for myself, I'm in my usual state," she continued, still smiling. "Which is bad enough also,
I suppose."
When Ilna had last glanced at Merota, the girl was amidships with Mistress Kaline, the
impoverished noblewoman who acted as her governess. Mistress Kaline was still there, lying flat over the
ventilators--the Flying Fish had no amidships railing--and looking distinctly green.
 Ilna's stomach flopped in sympathy, but she'd learned early in the voyage not to eat until they'd
made landfall for the night so that she could digest on solid ground. The patrol vessel was agile and quick
in a short dash, but it pitched, rolled, and yawed in a fashion that Ilna didn't have words to describe. It
wouldn't have been her choice for the ship she wanted to travel on, but she'd never wanted to travel in
the first place.
The rest of Garric's staff was aboard quinqueremes or the three-banked triremes that made up
most of the fleet. The bigger ships were equally crowded, but they were a great deal more stable.
Chalcus had picked the Flying Fish because it was similar to the pirate craft he'd commanded in the
days before he met Ilna; and since Ilna had picked Chalcus, that was the end of the matter so far as she
was concerned.

Chalcus caught Ilna's eye; he bowed to her and Merota with a flourish before resuming his
conversation. Chalcus was no more than middling height. He looked slender from the side, but his
shoulders were broad and he moved with the grace of a leopard. If you looked closely at his sharply