"Clayton Emery - Forgotten Realms - Forged In Fire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

Calimport. Two-hundred sixty-four days out of Kozakura. You shan't kill us,
will you, honorable rysal? We were ordered to defend the ship, and hope we
didn't offend."
"Eh? Oh, no, we shan't kill you." Heart of a Lion was distracted. Where
under Father Sky lay, what had he called it?, Koza-koonit? What kind of
outlandish cargo would they carry? "In fact, we welcome new recruits, so
you have a choice: join us or be put ashore. But take your time and think it
over. In the mean, spruce up this mess, if you please. Flake those lines,
dress the sails, holystone the decks. `A busy man is a happy man.'"

Relieved to be spared, the sailors jumped to work. First to get pitched over
the side were the bodies of fallen pirates and merchanters, once they'd
been stripped of weapons, jewelry, and saleable clothing.
A surprised shout went up as the pirates discovered the marine lieutenant
was still alive. She was dragged before the captain, head hanging and
drooling. Her cheek and neck were singed and wept a sticky fluid, and her
hair was burned away on one side. Heart of a Lion noted her blonde hair
and fair skin under the dark tan. Probably born of foreign mercenaries, she
was nevertheless a daughter of the desert. Typically Calimshite, whose
people were united in a mongrel heritage.

"Shall we cut her throat, captain?" asked a pirate. "She killed Tasyn and
Nureh."

Heart of a Lion squinted, considering. "That's no big loss. Tasyn was a bully
and Nureh cheated at cards. No, I believe we'll chain her to an oar. If she
survives the row to port, we'll ransom her back to the navy."
Down in the waist, Harun, the pirates' first mate, had stripped the canvas
covers off the hatches to scout the cargo. This merchant's cog was a
general-purpose vessel with moveable bulkheads below, fat and beamy as
a wooden shoe, with a wealth of square sail. The Eight Lightnings could
easily sail beyond the Forgotten Realms, and obviously had.

"Captain! You'd best see this!" bellowed Harun. Broad-shouldered and
brown, the first mate favored a black mustache curled with beeswax,
perhaps because his pate was bald as a bollard. Being an authority on a
notoriously undisciplined pirate ship, Harun always sounded disgusted, but
especially bitter now. With a sigh over a captain's busy lot, Heart of a Lion
plodded down the companionway.
"Cast your eyes on this filthy muck!" The gaping hold contained cask
stacked upon cask. Crewmen hefted a dozen barrels up and plunked them
on the deck, but they all held the same thing, to judge by the identical
calligraphs branded on the ends. Harun pried out a bung with his iron knife
and let liquid gurgle into his palm. It was clear and faintly golden, like the
wines of Waterdeep.

Heart of a Lion dipped his finger and sniffed. The liquid smelled faintly like
burnt honey mixed with turpentine or cedar resin. Gingerly the pirate chief
touched his tongue: it burned like spicy pepper. "What is it?"