"Juliet E. McKenna - Einarinn 4 - The Warrior's Bond" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKenna Juliet E)

was fretting over his almanac, a tide table and a recently acquired set of
maps. I suppose it made a change from the ancient tomes he'd been scouring for
the last two seasons, hunting hints of lost lore from one end of Toremal to
the other, garnering clues that might unravel the mysteries of the past. I
admired his scholarship, but in his place I'd have taken these few days to
draw breath, waiting to see if those on the ship we so eagerly anticipated
could supply some answers.
There was a rattle behind me. I turned to see Casuel had pushed aside my game
board. The trees of the Forest had toppled over to knock into apples thrushes
and pied crows, sending the little wooden birds skittering over the scarred
wooden surface. I held my peace; I didn't particularly want
to finish the game and Casuel wasn't going to learn anything from another
defeat to add to the three he'd already suffered. The wizard might be learned
in his abstract arts but he was never going to win a game of Raven till he
overcame the spine-lessness that inevitably hamstrung his hopelessly
convoluted plans.
I squinted into the gloom, trying to distinguish between the ripples in the
glass and the torrents of rain blurring the vista. Black squalls striped the
swags of grey cloud, dragging curtains of rain across the white-capped,
grey-green swells. 'Is that a sail?'
Casuel shot an accusing look at the timepiece on the mantelshelf. 'I hardly
think so. It's barely past the sixth hour and we don't expect them before the
evening tide.'
I shrugged. 'I don't suppose they expected Dastennin would send a storm to
push them on.' That darker shape in the turmoil of the water was too regular
to be shadow or swell. That fluttering white was too constant to be
wind-driven spume. Was it the ship we'd spent two days of idle comfort
awaiting? I took up the spyglass I'd bought that morning, one of the finest
instruments the skilled seafarers of the eastern shore could supply. Opening
the upper light of the window, I steadied the leather-bound cylinder on the
sill, ignoring the flutter of paper riffled by an opportunist gust darting
inside.
'Saedrin's stones, Ryshad!' Casuel slapped at uncooperative documents, cursing
as his candles were snuffed.
I ignored him, sweeping the brass circle over the roiling surface of the sea.
Where was that fugitive shape? I checked back with my naked eye - there, I had
it! Not a coaster; an ocean ship, with steep sides, three masts and deck
castles fore and aft.
'Are there any ships due in from the south?' I asked Casuel, minutely
adjusting my glass to keep the tiny image in view.
Pages rustled behind me. 'No, nothing expected from Zyoutessela or Kalaven
until the middle of the season.'
'That's according to your lists?' I didn't share Casuel's faith in inked
columns of names and dates. My father may be a
mason but I'd known plenty of sailors growing up in Zyoutessela, an isthmus
city uniquely favoured by Dastennin with ports to both east and west. This
could well be some ship whose captain had risked a profitable if unscheduled
voyage. I find seafarers a curious mix of the bold and the cautious, men who
plan obsessively for every eventuality they might face once out of reach of
harbour but who throw caution to the winds to seize some unforeseen