"Gray, Julia - Guardian 04 - The Red Glacier" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

'No. You obviously don't understandЧ' 'You wouldn't have to put me ashore yourselves. Just get me close enough so I can swim for it.' Ostan's expression changed from one of puzzlement to
outright incredulity, and Terrel saw that some of the sailors were grinning now.
'I can swim well enough,' he claimed, but then began to doubt his own words. He was much stronger than when he had escaped from Havenmoon, and he'd been able to swim even then, in spite of the fact that his right leg was twisted and his right arm was withered so that the hand was little more than a rigid claw. The heavy clothes he now wore as protection against the cold disguised his deformities a little, but he would never be genuinely athletic. What was more, although he'd swum in various lakes and rivers, he had never been in the open sea Ч especially one as rough as this Ч and if the coastline was as rugged as Ostan claimed, he was just as likely to be dashed upon the rocks as he was to drown. And there was another factor he had not even considered.
'I'm sure you can,' Ostan conceded, 'but in these waters no one would survive such an attempt. You'd soon be paralyzed by the cold, and dead after a very short time. It would be suicide.'
'There must be some way,' Terrel pleaded.
'We could probably get the skiff close enough to the shore, if we time it right,' the captain admitted, 'but it's not going to happen. It's too risky.'
'But I'm willing to take that risk.'
'I meant for my crewmen,' Ostan stated flatly. 'Someone would have to row you ashore and bring the boat back. Give me one good reason why I should jeopardize any of my men.'
Terrel was silent, racking his brains for a way to convince the captain without sounding like a complete lunatic.
'Besides,' the seaman added. 'Supposing we did get you on to the rocks somehow and you were able to climb the cliffs. You'd still probably get yourself killed inside an hour.'
'Why?'
Ostan stared at him, obviously wondering whether the strange young man could possibly be as naive as he appeared.
'You really don't know anything about Myvatan, do you?' he said eventually.
'I know there's a war there, butЧ'
'So you know you'd be walking into a forbidden zone?'
At this Terrel's face lit up with renewed excitement, which he knew would make Ostan doubt his sanity even more.
'That's where I have to go!' he exclaimed.
'Are you crazy} Both sides would kill you in an instant if they found you there.'
'Why?'
'Because you're an outsider and it's a forbidden zone,' Ostan replied with heavy emphasis, then paused. 'Unless . . .'
'Unless what?' Terrel asked hopefully.
'Unless you've been lying to us all along.'
'What do you mean?' The healer felt genuinely uneasy now. Which of his half-truths was Ostan referring to?
'Which quarter do you follow?' the captain demanded.
'I don't know what you mean.'
'Which moon, then?'
Terrel shook his head in bewilderment.
'Forget it!' Ostan snapped. 'I'm not taking you to Whale Ness. You're coming with us to Port Akranes Ч and that's final.'
Terrel's bitter disappointment could not be dispelled even by the enchanting sight of a school of dolphins swimming alongside the Skua, effortlessly matching her pace and occasionally leaping from the water as though they were
playing. He wished Alyssa would return - and bring the ghosts with her Ч so that they could discuss the situation properly, but he knew he was on his own, at least until he made landfall. And by then it might be too late.
'Don't take it too hard,' Kahl advised.
Terrel was sitting, huddled in several layers of clothing, near the bows of the ship. He had been deep in thought and the sailor's approach had taken him by surprise.
'Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?' he asked, glancing around.
'I could've been wearing hobnail boots and singing at the top of my voice and you still wouldn't have heard me coming.'
'Probably,' Terrel conceded. 'What shouldn't I take too hard?'
'The skipper's decision,' Kahl replied. 'Ostan did some pretty reckless things himself when he was your age, but he's older now and more responsible. Or so he'd like everyone to believe. I reckon you could get him to change his mind.'
'Really?'
'Aye. But you'll have to come up with a better argument than before.'
And that, Terrel thought, is the problem. He'd been trying to think of a way to convince Ostan, but hadn't got very far.
'Why don't you talk to Kjolur?' the sailor suggested. 'He might be able to help you. Myvatan's his homeland and he knows more about the place than any of us.'
Terrel knew who Kjolur was, but had assumed he was just another member of the crew. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall ever seeing him at work on board or in the rigging.
'He keeps himself to himself,' Kahl went on, 'but he's not a bad sort.'
'You've met him before, then?'
'He's sailed with us several times. He's a merchant of some sort. Quite secretive about his trade, but he pays well to add his cargo to ours, so we've no quarrel with that.'
'I'll talk to him,' Terrel decided. 'Thanks.'
'Just so you know,' Kahl said, 'he's been asking a few questions about you, on the quiet, like.'
'What did you tell him?'
'What could we tell him? We don't exactly know much ourselves, other than you've a way to take the ache from a man's bones.' Kahl paused, perhaps hoping that his companion would volunteer some more information about himself, but Terrel had no intention of doing that. He was too busy wondering whether Kjolur's interest in him stemmed from idle curiosity or something more.
Terrel found the islander sitting inside a coil of thick rope, near the stern of the vessel. It looked like an uncomfortable seat, but Kjolur seemed quite relaxed. As he drew closer, the healer was astonished to discover that the merchant was reading a book - which immediately marked him out as unusual. In all his travels, most of the people Terrel had met could neither read nor write. Indeed, some of them - like the Toma in the desert land of Misrah Ч had no written language at all. And everywhere he'd been, books were considered rare and valuable objects, with many people regarding them as mysterious and even magical artefacts.
'What are you reading?'