"Shirley Meier & S. M. Stirling - Fifth Millenium 02 - Saber and Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meier Shirley)

heading north with sugar, rum, molasses and coffee for Illizbuah, capital of
Fehinna. And one down-on-her-luck mercenary, shipping on as a marine to get
passage back to the city that was the closest thing to a home she had. The
tall woman slapped at the insects again and ignored the greasy sweat matting
her red-blond hair and running down her face; for a moment she thought
longingly of her native land far to the northwest. Cool winds blowing the tall
prairie grass like green-bronze waves, sky wide and blue . . . She shook her
head, the narrow hawk-features brooding and sullen.

Luck-she made a sign with her sword-hand-had not been good of late. No pirate
attack, just a few galleys coming out to sniff their trail off the Sea
Islands, so she had not even earned any hard coin. Then the storm that caught
them out to sea, blowing them north past Fehinna and onto a sandbar on the
Joisi coast. The natives were miserable savages in mud huts, but they had some
contact with outsiders and had taken the survivors in, for a stiff price.

A fresh shout brought her head up, and she unclipped the binoculars at her
waist, standing and scanning out to sea.

Ia! she thought: yes! Sails, a middling-size schooner. Fehinnan by her lines
and the sunburst flag.

A smoke-signal went up from the village, hidden off half a kilometer west
behind dunes and scrub cedar. The salvagers splashed back from their work.
More of the Joisi swarmed down to the beach; they were armed with long spears
and hide shields, blowguns and wooden swords set with shark's teeth or pieces
of glass. Traders put in here to barter for muskrat pelts, cedar oil and
whatever else the locals had on hand, but a village that looked too easy a
mark might be plundered and its inhabitants hustled off to the slave markets
of the Cayspec lands to the south.

Shkai'ra grinned slowly, standing. A black tomcat left off its investigation
of the long sawgrass and sprang for her shoulder, climbing up the horsehide
tunic she had worn ever since the wreck two weeks ago. She put up a hand to
rub absently at the cat's scarred chin. The jacket hid her money belt quite
handily. There had been considerable confusion when the ship went ashore in
the storm, and she had paid a last-minute visit to the captain's cabin. So
unfortunate, the captain being up on deck trying to save his ship, she
thought.

And so fortunate, that trader coming in, her mind went on as she sauntered
toward the landing-stage. The ship had dropped anchor offshore, and a longboat
was stroking for the beach. These last few days, the savages had started
looking at the metal of her weapons and harness with speculative eyes. It was
a considerable fortune, by local standards. . . .

"Back to Illizbuah," she said.

"Meeorw" the cat crooned, squinting its green eyes at the ship. He liked
ships-they generally had an interesting population of rodents.