"Realms of the Deep - Philip Athans.2.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthologies)

guide the priestess, her prince, and his army to the harbor's heart with My
blessing. Fear not, you will know the moment to reveal My gift. You will lead
them to Me, and I will reward them.
Then come to Me yourself, malenti, for your own reward.
Return to me. ,
A man's mind was never meant to hold the voice of a goddess, much less Her
mirth. The insensate blackness returned. Shemsen awoke in his own niche, his own
hammock. Eshono hovered beside him, a lantern in one hand and a wad of kelp in
the other.
"Shemsen? Shemsen? You've given us all a scare. Tell me you know me."
1 know you, Eshono," Shemsen whispered. He tried to rise, but lacked the
strength. "How long?" he asked. "How did I get here?" His last clear memory was
of the Cache and Umberlee's voice in his head. Seizing Eshono's wrists, Shemsen
hauled himself out of the hammock. "What day is it?"
"The harbor guard found you days ago, drifting near the docks."
"Days!" Shemsen shivered, and not because of the cold, outgoing tide flowing
past their niche. "What day is it?"
"You've lain here like the dead for six days, and you'd been missing five days-"
"The day, man! Tell me what day it is. Have I missed Fleetswake?"
Eshono tried to pull away, but Shemsen's strength was already returning.
"It's Fleetswake morning, Shemsen. The offerings were made last night. Umberlee
is placated for another year and Waterdeep is drunk with celebration."
"It's not too late ... I must go." He released the sea elf and realized,
belatedly, that he was naked. "My garb! Eshono, was I like this when you found
me?"
"I didn't find you, friend,''
"Was I empty-handed? Pray to all your gods, Eshono, that I was not found
empty-handed."
The sea elf's eyes widened dangerously. "You were fully garbed when the guards
brought you here, but your hands were empty. There was a bag, though .. ."
Eshono gave a kick to the slatted crates where they kept their belongings. "I
didn't open it."
Shemsen snatched the small sack from the crate, tore the knot, and shook the
contents out. The small conch shell, Umberlee's gift, drifted toward the net. He
caught it. Unnaturally warm in his hand, the shell rejuvenated Shemsen
completely.
And just as well, the ruined beacon was a day's swim away, even with the tide on
his heels. He dressed quickly in eel skin leathers, ignoring Eshono's pleas that
he needed rest, food, and a visit to the healers. When he'd strung the small
sack to his belt and snugged his belt around his waist, Shemsen took up his
trident.
"Wait!" the sea elf protested.
Shemsen brought the tines level with Eshono's heart.
"Listen to me, Shemsen, you're not well. Come with me. We'll go to the temple."
Shemsen shook his head slowly, "Move aside, Eshono. I don't want to hurt you,
but I have to leave."
Eshono made a wise choice and drifted to the other interior corner. Two kicks
and Shemsen was outside the net, which he drew up and hooked over the pegs. It
was a strictly symbolic act. The net was meant to confine objects, not elves,
but the meaning wasn't lost on the pale, wide-eyed Eshono.