"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 09 - Kingdom of Royth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

chests and crates to examine. Some had been opened already; most of these were as empty as a
scraped-out bowl. Others had stout bolts or locks, and he could not swing his club hard enough to smash
them open while he was in the water. He had to laboriously push them over to the raft, hoist them on to it
and precariously balance both them and himself while he hammered away at the fastenings. He usually fell
off two or three times while working on each box, and the box itself usually slipped off the raft into the
sea at least once. It was well into twilight, with a raw red and orange glow sprawling across the western
horizon, and his own temper blazing nearly as brightly as the sunset, before he finally found what he was
looking for.
 The chest had not been completely filled with weapons, or it would probably have sunk with the
weight of the metal inside. Apparently it had held the personal possessions of an officer of one of the
shipsтАФcolored tunics, white breeches, a belt, a pair of black boots, linen underclothing, a green silk sash,
a small enameled brass box for valuables, all jumbled together as though somebody had been hastily
pawing through the chest before abandoning ship.
But there was also a swordтАФa rapier, all point, light and supple, and not a ceremonial weapon. The
steel of the blade was good and the hilt and guard plain heavy brass without fancy ornamentation. He
flexed the blade experimentally and tried a few thrusts. It would serve quite well against any opponent
who wasn't wearing enough body armor to stop the point. And Blade had enough confidence in his own
skill with weapons to believe he could find chinks in armor into which to drive the point.
Now he had weapons and clothing of sorts, but no food or water. He was prepared to survive
several weeks without food, or with only what he could catch from the ocean. But he had to find some
water before another two days had gone by. He would not be dead by then, but he would be almost past
the point of being able to save himself, and perhaps to the point of making some foolish mistake (like
drinking salt water) that would finish him off quickly. Unfortunately, finding water was probably going to
be difficult. He would not be likely to see it bobbing about in chests or boxes in the ocean. Possibly some
of the water barrels in the holds of the ships were still intact.
He turned back to the ships, which he had largely ignored during his hunt for survival gear. Another
of the galleys had gone down, and one of the merchantmen was so low in the water that Blade knew she
also had only a few more minutes afloat. The other merchantman was still blazing too brightly to make it
safe to board her. But the remaining galley had burned herself out and was floating, a charred and
smoldering hulk, but yet one which might be boarded and even explored safely.
It was now almost dark, with only a faint pearly sheen in the western sky to mark the final fading of
daylight. Blade recalled that in the tropical seas of Home Dimension, nightfall meant large, hungry fish
roaming about, seeking what or whom they might devour. This felt like a tropical ocean; he hoped the
parallel would not extend farther. It case it did, however, it was time he got moving.
The burning merchantman was spreading a pool of golden light across the surface of the sea, and as
Blade turned, his superb peripheral vision caught something moving on the outer fringes of that pool. He
froze, turning only his head to get a better look. Then he slowly flattened himself on his raft.
A boat was rowing out of the darkness toward the floating hulks and wreckageтАФa ship's boat,
crowded with men and rowing about five oars a side. They were rowing very badly, Blade noticed, with
much splashing and catching of crabs. The oarsmen were either untrained or nervous or both. However,
that wasn't an important question. They were other human beings. Unfortunately, there was no way of
knowing which side they belonged to. At least neither side had any compelling reason to be violently
hostile to him, the proverbial innocent bystander. And these people were certainly a better alternative
than either exploring smoldering hulks in search of water or sitting on his raft until he died of thirst. He
took a firm grip on the rapier, stood up and HALOOOOED at the top of his powerful lungs.
The sound carried well over the water to the boat. Blade saw it suddenly swing around as the oars
stopped. There was a dead silence that lasted until Blade wondered if his hail had stricken everyone in
the boat mute or dead. Then a harsh shout came back over the water.
"Who goes there?"
Blade was no longer surprised at his ability to understand and speak the local language from his first