"Fifth Millennium - 03 - The Cage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meier Shirley)

Megan and Shkai'ra paused under the carved blackwood sign outside, after the Zak locked the door and stuck the keys in her belt, waiting for the street to be cleared. In front of the Slaf Hikarme's counting house the drivers of two oxcarts, one piled high with round cheeses, the other bulging with bales of wool, stood and waved their goads and yelled insults over which of them had right of way. Around them the street bustled; wool-capped sailors jostled on the narrow, split-log way that kept everyone up out of the delta mud; buildings of timber and rubble and brick leaned out to almost meet overhead. A juggler in bright robes balanced improbable things thrown him by his audience at one corner, of the ex-whorehouse. A squad of the Watch trailed by, bored shopkeepers and artisans in rusty kettle-helmets and leather corselets, their polearms canted every which way; one carelessly snagged the backhook of her halberd in a line of washing and yanked, dumping the laundry in the mud. Curses and a flung chamberpot followed.

Shkai'ra noticed the Rand first for his robe; it was ankle-length, of blue silk and embroidered with dragons in thread of gold and silver, with garnets and lapis for eyes and scales.Wouldn't mind having that myself , she mused. Too short for her, the man's head only came to her eye-level, but it could be made over into a nice coat.Quick thump on the head and . . . No, not here. The man wasn't bad-looking either, supple saffron-skinned handsomeness, with a cat on his shoulderЕ

Nota cat. Catlooking , with Siamese points, but the tailЕ the tail was like a monkey's, loosely curled around the man's throat. At first she thought it was wrapped in a toast-brown fur; then it unfurled one three-foot wing and fanned the air, knocking off a sailor's hat and receiving a resentful glare. Bat-style wing, with a claw on the leading edge and the skin webbing between elongated finger bones. The Rand reached up and tickled it under the chin; the eyes slitted and it purred for a moment, then crouched with its wings stretched back. The man let his hand fall, and the cat-thing sprang into the air, dropped, caught itself with a thunderclap wingbeat, thrashed its way aloft through the narrow ways of the rooftops and soared with late afternoon sunlight on its wings, a plaintivemeeorrow trailing behind.

"Whatis that thing?"

"Hmm? What? Oh, that. It's a flitter or wingcat." Megan shrugged. "Expensive this far south. You can pay a hunter a month's wage for a flitterkitten. Luxury item."

Shkai'ra stood looking up at the soaring feline musingly. "Hell on pigeons."

а

THE KCHNOTET VURM, BRAHVNIKI EVENING

Megan leaned on the window of their room and looked out at Brahvniki, down at the grey slate and brown thatched roofs fading into shadow patterns in the long shadows of autumn twilight. The towers of The Kreml on the highest point were like teeth against the cloudy sky, onion domes, patterned tile and gilding. The street beneath, bustling with Bravnikians hurrying home, was cobbled with worn round stones from the river. Faintly she could hear the wooden flute of a street musician over the rumble of hooves and boots and the shrill groaning of an oxcart's ungreased wheels. A working port, full of smells of sea and the silty odors of the great river. She craned her neck to see the white dome of the outermost spire of the Benai across the river.

Behind her, Shkai'ra Mek Kermak's-kin put hands to hips and pivoted a slow circle on one heel. "Best room?" she asked. All the furnishings were old but sound, like the inn itself. There were deep troughs in the oak doorsill, foot-worn. The Kchnotet Vurm wasn't the best in the city but it certainly wasn't the worst; what had Megan saidЧah yes, the "noisiest." Around her feet a battered black tomcat wound, blinked, seemed to stretch out in an arc that landed on the bed; there he sat like a small idol, eyes slitted, forefeet kneading happily into the softness.

"Dah." Megan came in and closed the shutter so the candleflame steadied.

"We've had better," the Kommanza continued. Although they had known what she meant when she asked for an armor stand; no matter how carefully you packed a suit, it was better for the lacings if you stood it upright. She stood back to admire hers standing in the corner, the liquid shine of the black-lacquered surfaces and scarlet trim. Then she gave the fiberglass backings a quick inspection; they could come loose from the bullhide if the glue went moldy, and all the gods knew it had been trouble enough dragging it from the other side of the Lannic. The watertight chest had saved their lives once though, keeping them afloat through a shipwreck.

"And worse," Megan said. "At least we're not head to heels with seventeen other travelers." Megan was unpacking her personal chest; books, scrolls, curios, a collection of knives ranging from tiny things that could be bent into a beltbuckle or held concealed in a palm to miniature shorts words. Last of all, a needlesword with a bell guard. She considered it almost distastefully, then leaned it against the wall by the bed. "Much worse, ifЧ" She stopped and clapped a hand to her forehead as Shkai'ra set up a small six-armed joss on the windowledge. "Oh, no, no more sacrifices in our bedroom!"

The tall woman shrugged. "Glitch can have his sheep outside."

"Thank you Koru, Goddess. Much worse places, if you remember that fisher shack we were stuck in all last winter on that damned islandЧ"

"Not so bad, once the smell faded," Shkai'ra said, bouncing experimentally on the bed. "If there'd been any place togo , we wouldn't have ended up so near murdering each other." A grin. "Not that we didn't findsome things to occupy our time, eh? Mind you, you're near as bad on shipboard, when you can't have a cabin to yourself; and you a riverboat captain! Half the time up the mast, especially those last few days."

Megan laid down the bag of clothing and locked eyes with her companion. "ThisЕ" She moistened her lips. "I've been two years away, kh'eeredo." She paused, remembering. "I've never told youthat story, have I?"

Shkai'ra unlatched the walrus-ivory buckles on her boots and braced heel against instep to pull them off. "No," she said, turning on one side and lying propped up on an elbow. "Not the details, just that Habiku was your second and betrayed you." She reached out a hand, a brief light touch. "Got the impression he wasЕ hmmm, likeable but suspicious. Hard to distrust someone likeable; which is why we Kommanza try so hard to dislike everybody." The blonde woman smiled, a quiet, almost shy expression, unlike her usual raffish grin."Make an exception for you, kh'eeredo."

Megan smiled back, sat down on the bed. "Thanks; after more than a year of sleeping together, it's nice to know." She poked Shkai'ra in the ribs with her bare toe. "Up on the mast I'd think about him, too," she said, going very quiet, very still. "The night he betrayed me he came in after his swim, carrying an expensive bottle of wineЧ AYeoli wine. A Terahan 1541 by their reckoning, year of the Ash Gryphon.

"I had been watching him like a cat at a mousehole because I suspected everyone then. I thought he'd been the start of a couple of abortive attempts against me but I had no proof. Oh, he was so careful. He never pushed me. Never mocked me. Never threatened myЧmy stability, you might say. He was a good sailor, knew the river like he knew the inside of his eyelids. So good. So patient with my quirks." She smiled bitterly. "And it was all lies, of course."

"I can tell you word for word what happened. 'Captain,' he says in that soft voice of his. 'IЕ we thought it appropriate to bring you this.' I should have known. I should have realized, but I never thought he'd do something so obvious as to offer me a gift. He told me it was a combination name day and birthday gift from the crew."He grinned at me, eyes twinkling . "He had some story about how little I paid them so they could only afford one gift."

Megan's hand tightened on the wooden rail of the footboard. "I was stupid enough to believe him. It flustered me. I even thanked him. "I stammered and blushed like an idiot. He even got a smile out of me. Even Shyll didn't make mesputter like that . "He even pretended to drink a glass with me." Megan let the coils of her braids down and scrubbed at her temples; the silverwhite streak in her hair caught at the light of the flame.

"I still remember locking the door behind him; thinking that his smile was a bit strange. Then I remember the dizziness. I had enough time to stagger over to my chair, wondering why the ship was rocking like that, and I heard the leather hinges as he opened my door. 'I'm sorry that you trusted me,' is what he said. 'I'm sorry you trusted me!' The fishgutted bastard had dosed me with God'sTears. The last I recall before I woke up aboard the slave ship is him wrapping me in a cloak and lifting me. I still haven't figured out why he didn't just drop me overboard. I suppose he had a grudge and thought I'd hurt more if he sold me safely for away. Stupid of him."

"Ia," Shkai'ra said, in her own tongue. For a moment teeth showed between thinned lips, and the skull beneath her fair skin glanced out through her face. "Very foolishЕ"

Megan stretched, shook the memory out of her head as she combed out her hair with her fingers, scratched Ten-Knife-Foot under his chin; he was getting grey there like a jowly old man. A purr rewarded her as she watched Shkai'ra get up to make a minor adjustment to the incense sticks in front of the idol. "Don't you think that the little godlet of fuck-ups might ignore us more if you didn't keep dinning your presence into his ears?"