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

"Flog me like a dog if I know." Harun waved calloused hands. "But we've
got plenty of it. Three holds full! The master cabin has some raw silk and
silver, and more of these fruity clothes, and painted dishes, may Ogham
take my sight! We can sell them for a small profit, but these casks --
they're worthless!"
Heart of a Lion waggled his brass tube for Bollus. Treading lightly, the
captive bosun shook his head.

"A thousand pardons, gracious sirs, and a hundred apologies, but we don't
know what these barrels hold either. Our captain and mate kept it a secret.
They were part owners in this vessel, which is why they fought so
ferociously to defend it, while we simple sailors are paid by the day. They
didn't trust us to know the cargo, and none of us could speak the language
in Kozakura. I think the liquid is pressed from rice, or else juice of the
sugar cane, or both. Our captain claimed he'd market it overnight in
Calimshan, but how, we don't know."
"Where is your ship's log?"

"Again, ten score apologies, but the captain threw it overboard when you
attacked. It had lead covers so t'would sink."

"A secret cargo from an unknown land..." Heart of a Lion smelled his
fingertips again. "It's not lacquer, nor vinegar. 'Haps it's lamp oil, like the
spermaceti they press from whale blubber at Luskan."
Pirates had gathered to gauge their luck, and now looked glum. Several
dipped their fingers. One offered, "It's too thin for lamp oil." Another
opined, "It might've spoiled in the hold, lost its body soaking up heat." "If
it tastes putrid, it must be medicine." "Did you shake the cask? Perhaps it's
separated, like unchurned camel milk." "'Haps it's camel piss."

"This voyage is cursed!" growled Harun. "Without the owners' connections in
Calimport, we'll never sell the stuff! Who'd buy something the sellers can't
identify? What with having to lay in food and water casks and new sails,
and these slim pickings, we won't win enough on this voyage to make our
expenses! Some pirates! We can't even profit by stealin'!"
Silently, Heart of a Lion agreed. These past three months, ocean traffic had
mysteriously thinned, so even the busy sea lane spanning Tharsult and
Almraiven lay deserted. A couple more weeks of bad luck, the pirate chief
knew, and his crew would grow restless and angry, and blame their captain
for ill fortune. Heart of a Lion would be voted out of his post -- if he weren't
forcibly retired over the side on a windy night.

Yes, he sighed, pirating was a dodgy business. Especially since Heart of a
Lion no longer wielded a scimitar. A growing prosperity around his middle
had slowed him down. These days he preferred to exercise his brain, and to
even experiment with mystical geegaws. Hence the brass wand of
fire-casting, which he'd acquired in the market of Memnon, a city besmitten
by efreet, fire genies. The tube was a handy weapon; still, some of the
crew thought magic-wielding was sissified, and hinted darkly that their
captain might fare better in another profession. Like flower-drying, or