"Duncan, Dave - A Man Of His Word 03 - Perilous Seas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

The faun sighed and fell silent.
His farsight talent made him unique, of course, and yet it was a freakish thing.
Stormdancer had not needed it since his first voyage. His subsequent trips had
been hard work, with too much rowing and not enough sailing, but completely
uneventful.
And the lad had more to him than just an occult knack. He had the makings of a
very fine sailor. He was competent and trustworthy. He never complained or
picked fights. He did whatever he was told to do as if he were grateful for the
opportunity. Even without his farsight, he was not a man Gathmor would readily
let slip away. Almost all the unattached girls in Durthing were giving serious
thought to the big faun, too.
"They say," Ogi remarked, "that happiness is pretending you always wanted what
you're getting. "
Rap chuckled, but he kept his gaze on the flames.
Ogi began to feel worried. If the kid was out of sorts, then tonight's operation
might turn into a disaster. Before he could explore that possibility, Rap spoke.
"You're an imp. Why d'you live among these maniacs?" Ogi twitched nervously. "I
suggest you don't say that word too loud, friend. And you shouldn't ask
questions like that here. "
"Oh! Sorry! Didn't think."
"It's all right with me. I'll just tell you to mind your own business-"
"But a jotunn would knock my head off," Rap finished. "That's what I meant."
"And you don't need to ask anyway. The only possible reason a nonjotunn would
live here is that it's pleasanter than the imperor's jails. Come on, lad-it's a
great life! Space and freedom! Women? You don't get women in jail unless you're
real rich. Enjoy it!"
None of which was true in Ogi's case. He had never fallen afoul of the law, and
he lived in Durthing simply because he loved the sea and loved being a sailor.
Trouble was, the only possible explanation for that was much harder to talk
about than a criminal past would have been. He knew his grandfather had died
when jotunn raiders razed Kolvane; his father had been a posthumous baby.
Although the family would never discuss the matter, and although Ogi himself was
impishly short and broad and swarthy, he was quite certain that he must be
one-quarter jotunn. To say so would greatly boost his standing in Durthing and
among Stormdancer's crew, but it would increase his risks, too, and the kidding
would never end. Ogi was not enough of a jotunn to find such matters funny.
"But they are maniacs," Rap muttered. "Kani's still after me to go pick a fight
with someone. Why, for the Good's sake? I've shown I'll defend myself!"
Ogi began flipping fish over with the point of his dagger. He hadn't meant to
raise the matter yet, and the kid wasn't close to drunk. "Well, there's a
difference, Rap."
"What sort of difference?"
He passed the wine. "Here-you're not drinking your share! Yes, you've had a
couple of fights. But they don't really count."
Rap put the jar down on the ground beside him and fixed a cold gaze on his
companion. "Don't count? Why not?"
The carp were done. Feeling his mouth watering already, Ogi began scooping them
onto the platters with his dagger. At least he need not look his friend in the
eye while doing so. He hoped they would still be friends tomorrow.
"You know the standings round here,. Rap. Lowest are the nonjotunn, like me.