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

Terrel was woken by Kahl the next morning. 'The skipper wants to see you.' 'What about?' Terrel mumbled. 'He didn't tell me. You'd better go and find out.'
'Do you still want to go to Whale Ness?'
'Yes.'
'Then we'll go. I think you're mad, but it's your life.'
'Thank you.'
Ostan waved aside any gratitude.
'What made you change your mind?' Terrel asked.
'The sad look in those eyes of yours,' the captain replied. He'd spoken with a straight face, but several of the crew were smiling, and Terrel knew he wouldn't get a straight answer.
Although Ostan's reference to Terrel's eyes had been a joke, the healer was used to people making remarks about them. His eyes were indeed remarkable. The irises were almost colourless, like pale diamonds Ч which gave the impression that they were almost crystalline - with only occasional rainbow flashes deep within. Strangers often found them intimidating at first, but as Terrel pointed out, they were just eyes. If necessary, he could disguise them - and other aspects
of his appearance - through the use of the glamour, the trick of making people see what they wanted to see. But he only ever used this now as a last resort. As Alyssa was fond of telling him, there was a price to pay for such magic, and in this instance it came at the cost of making himself vulnerable to his twin's malign influence.
The weather worsened during the day, and Ostan kept his crew busy with almost continuous adjustments to their course and the set of the sails. When a ship was out of sight of land, navigation could be difficult, and Terrel knew that the seamen used a variety of observations to help them. Ostan and his second-in-command studied the angle of the waves, cloud patterns, the position of the sun during the day and the stars and moons at night. They even noted the colour of the seawater around them, and the types of seaweed within it. However, that afternoon Terrel watched as they prepared to take a completely different set of measurements. He didn't like to interfere but he was intrigued, so he sought out Kahl.
'What are they doing?'
'We're coming into shallower water now,' the sailor told him. 'The rope they're preparing is knotted every four paces, so that when a weight is tied to the end and we lower it over the side, we can tell exactly how deep the water is. That'll give the captain a better idea of where we've got to. Sometimes they spread tallow on the base of the weight. That way, when it touches the sea bed, some bits get embedded, and when we draw it up again, Ostan can tell more about where we are, depending on whether it's sand or pebbles or mud.'
'Ingenious,' Terrel said, impressed.
'It's called fishing for treasure,' Kahl added. 'To my knowledge no one's ever come up with any gold, but
sometimes Ч especially if you're lost Ч information can be just as valuable.'
From his own experiences, Terrel knew that to be true.
'I hear we're going to Whale Ness after all,' Kahl said, as they watched the rope being carefully lowered over the side of the ship.
'Yes. Do you know why Ostan changed his mind?'
'That's not for me to say. But I can tell you he spent some time talking with Kjolur last night.'
'Kjolur told me his word wouldn't carry much weight.'
'No,' Kahl agreed. 'But his gold might.'
That evening, Terrel found himself becoming increasingly restless. Kahl had had no proof of his theory. The idea, that money might have changed hands was pure supposition, and neither Terrel nor the sailor had been able to come up with a reason why Kjolur should have thought such an arrangement worthwhile. Nevertheless, there had to be some reason for Ostan's abrupt change of heart. But if Kjolur had intervened, what was his motive? Simply to help an ally of one day's standing? That didn't seem likely, but Terrel couldn't think of any sensible alternatives. And Ч assuming the islander was responsible Ч then why was he seemingly intent on acting anonymously? He'd made no attempt to talk to Terrel that day, and had spent most of his time below decks.
Terrel wasn't sure whether to confront Kjolur or simply accept his good fortune. Eventually, however, his curiosity overcame his reticence and he tracked the merchant down to his tiny private cabin. When he knocked and announced himself, a few moments passed before the door was unlocked - and from the various noises within, Terrel got the impression that the islander was tidying some things away before letting his visitor in. However, when Kjolur
eventually opened the door, he was smiling and his welcome seemed genuine.
'Come in, come in. It's a bit cramped, I'm afraid. Would you like a glass of meletar?'
Terrel looked at the clear, honey-coloured liquid and shook his head.
'No, thanks. I don't have a good head for drink.' That was a simplification of the truth. His very real aversion to alcohol stemmed from more complicated reasons.
'Shame. This is good stuff Kjolur took an appreciative sip from his own glass. 'What brings you to my lair?' He settled himself and waved Terrel to take a seat at the other end of the narrow bunk.
'I was wondering whether you had anything to do with the captain changing his mind about Whale Ness.'
'Would it be so surprising if I did?'
'We've only just met. Why would you want to help me?'
'Don't you believe in first impressions?'
'Sometimes.'
'So do I. Call it intuition, if you like. My powers of persuasion are obviously greater than I thought.'
'So you didn't pay Ostan, then?'
Kjolur did not respond immediately. His smile faded slowly, and Terrel felt as if he were being impaled by the calm gaze of those uncanny green eyes.
'I'm a businessman, Terrel,' the merchant said at last. 'Why would I do that?'
'I've no idea.'
'There's no profit in it for me, is there?'
'No, butЧ'
'Tell me, have you revealed everything about what you're going to do on Myvatan?'
'I don't know everything myself.'
'Fair enough. But have you told me all you do know?'
Terrel's hesitation betrayed him. He wasn't sure where the conversation was leading, but Kjolur had succeeded in putting him at a disadvantage.
'It's all right,' the islander said. 'You don't have to answer, and I've no intention of prying. Every man is entitled to keep his own counsel when he wants to.'
'Including you,' Terrel said, finally seeing the point the other man was making.
'Including me,' the merchant said, nodding.
They sat in silence for a while. Kjolur seemed perfectly at ease but Terrel was nervous, not quite knowing what to say or where to look. He took note of the few things he could see in the cabin, but knew it would be both pointless and rude to enquire about the ledgers or the small casket that sat in one corner.
'Well,' he said eventually, clearing his throat. 'You have my thanks. I'm in your debt.'