"Shirley Meier & S. M. Stirling - Fifth Millenium 05 - Shadow's Son" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meier Shirley)

fist.тАЩтАЭ
тАЬWe all look at each other. We hadnтАЩt thought of it that way. In chains, you forget how to be free.
He sees the seed is planted, so he says, тАШNow everyone who isnтАЩt hurt take care of someone who is,тАЩ
and goes off.тАЭ
тАЬThe next day, those of us who wanted to stay tore all the locks off the doors and the chain-bolts out
of the floors, cut more windows in the walls, did this and that to make the place safer, and chose a
manager ... ahem. Thara-e Brick-fast, established last month, building materials of premier quality at
reasonable pricesтАФwe make them better for Yeola-e than we ever did for Arko! I seem to recall you
saying you were a merchant, kere Megan ...тАЭ
Her mind was cast back ten years. The staple in the cabin floor of the Zingas Brezhana: tearing it
out, flinging it and the oak chain overboard. Metal, she should have sold it; but it was just too good to
see that black bar sink down and disappear into the blue Brezhan, a sight to remember for the rest of her
life. It was the same for this Yeoli, every Yeoli here. The fighters were with the army; everyone else had
been slaves of Arko.
There was only one way to answer him. тАЬUnfortunately we have pressing business that occupies us at
the moment: in Arko.тАЭ He chuckled. тАЬAnd my house deals mostly in luxury goods and metals such as
sword-blanks, horseshoes, iron ingots and so forth. Still ...тАЭ ShkaiтАЩraтАЩs face buried itself behind the
wine-goblet as they swapped pitches; she was always bored to yawning by such talk. SheтАЩs never been
denied it, Megan thought, as they took the names of each otherтАЩs agents.

It had been raining since last night; they had broken camp in a downpour and marched all day in a
steady cold drizzle. Water soaked through MeganтАЩs raw-wool cloak, into her breeches and tunic and
loincloth, making the cloth swell and chafe. The horses plodded with dragging hooves, their heads down
and wet manes plastered to their necks. The sky overhead was flat grey, dulling the green of the fields on
either side of the broad road of Imperial poured-stone. On the abandoned furrows the crops were
spring-young; off to one side she could see the black snags of a burnt farmhouse, with the bloated forms
of dead cattle lying in the yard.
They were past the border, and through newly-freed Roskat; today theyтАЩd catch up with the army
and He Whose Bottom Was Dipped in Gold, se-ma-na-kra-se-ye, Che-, not Shche-, but Che-ven-ga
(theyтАЩd been practicing). Here the local people did call him Invincible and Immortal and such; in Yeola-e
it was a matter of principle not to, theyтАЩd realized, in case it swelled his head.
ShkaiтАЩra shook her head, drops flying from the drooping brim of her leather hat. тАЬCould be worse,тАЭ
she said. тАЬCould be winter. Amazing. No stragglers, just the odd foundered horse. Discipline like iron.тАЭ
Hotblood was a little bloated.
тАЬKeep talking so loud weтАЩll have a good late freeze from the gods,тАЭ Megan snarled. тАЬI can do
without ice crystals in my underclothes. And I thought that rich merchants didnтАЩt have to deal with this
shit.тАЭ
The cavalry pickets had already looked them over; now they could hear the rumble of marching
boots and wheels from the rearguard. Pike-points glistened through the curtains of falling mist, and lilting
Yeoli voices sang a marching songтАФin Enchian, oddly enough. тАЬUnderneath the lamplight ...тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩll bet the officers have a bitch of a time not letting the celebrations get out of hand, if theyтАЩll sing in
this stuff,тАЭ Megan said. тАЬHah. No oneтАЩs ever beaten Arko before.тАЭ
A mounted scout dropped back to challenge them. Megan cleared her throat, twisted in the saddle to
ease her aches. тАЬSpeak Enchian? My Yeoli is lousy,тАЭ she said, making an effort to keep her tone polite.
тАЬтАЩTai,тАЭ the sentry said, in a thick Yeoli accent. YesтАФthe shortened form of itai. тАЬYou got horse
fтАЩsale?тАЭ
тАЬAnd mercenaries to join. Then, we want a hot cider.тАЭ
The rider was young; her teeth grinned under the wet greased iron of her helmet, like a sudden bright
crack in stone. тАЬAyo, you join ahnтАЩ sell us horrse, some plunder we havenтАЩt drunk yet. Horsse-master
farrh up, paymahster furtser; so late in tseh day, you wait till we make cahmp, seya?тАЭ She looked Megan