"Pierce, Tamora - Circle Of Magic 03 - Daja's Book E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pierce Tamora)

nothing to do until the smith comes but keep my face in front of yours, if you would
rather be rude than tell me what I ask.Ф
Tris looked up at the TraderТs scars, and looked away.
УIТm not pretty,Ф said Polyam grimly. УA wirok doesnТt need looks. People are very
happy to give me what I want cheap and send me away, rather than have me about. I
ask again: if you know one who is trangshi, would you also know why?Ф
Tris gnawed her lip, and decided she would rather that this woman with her torn face
and missing leg went away. УThe ship DajaТs family was on - Third Ship Kisubo, it
was called -it sank. She was the only survivor. Now she lives at Winding Circle
temple. You people kicked her out like the wreck was her fault.Ф
УYou do not get rid of someone with smallpox because it is that oneТs fault. You do it
so no one else will get the disease. Bad luck is a disease. Only the carrier - a trangshi
- survives it, to give it to others.Ф

УNonsense,Ф retorted Tris.
УYou are sure of many things, for one who is not very old.Ф Polyam sighed and
muttered - to herself more than to Tris. УI may be wirok, but at least I am still
TsawТha.Ф
УWhat does wirok mean, anyway? And saw-hah?Ф Tris always wanted to learn the
meanings of new Trader words. Unlike her friends, she couldnТt speak Tradertalk.
УAnd whatТs so wonderful about being that and not what Daja is?Ф
УWiroks bring no profit to the caravan,Ф was the reply. УA wirok spends the caravanТs
money with blacksmiths, and food sellers and other needful kaqs. Even our children
scorn a wirok. And you call TsawТha Traders.Ф
Tris lifted her pale brows, her grey eyes puzzled. УAnd being a wirok is still better
than being irangshi?Ф
The Trader hesitated. Whatever reply she might have made was lost when Daja
shrieked inside the forge. Tris! came DajaТs frantic mind-call. In all the months Tris
had known her, she had never heard Daja sound as terrified as she did now. Tris! Tris!
TRIS!
The redhead jumped to her feet and raced into the building. The moment she saw
Daja, she skidded to a halt.
Inside the smithy, Daja could hear Polyam clearly. Eavesdropping, not thinking of
what she was up to, Daja had gone to draw a fresh iron rod out of the fire. Instead of
one length of iron, she had grasped the entire fistful of rods sheТd set to heat.
Once in her grip, unnoticed by Daja, the rods had twined around each other, then split
apart, forming three branches. One branch reached toward the fire, splitting again to
form three twigs. Another branch wound itself around DajaТs arm.
Startled by the feel of iron on her skin - though she could handle red-hot metal
without getting burned, the sensation was an odd one - Daja looked down. The third
branch reached between the fingers on her free hand, then wrapped around her palm
and over her wrist.
Daja tried to pull free, and failed. She bent her power on the iron, silently ordering it
back to its original shape. Instead the pieces that gripped her arms continued to grow.
They each seized a shoulder, holding it fast. One spread down her back; another
sprouted a tendril that gently twined around her neck. That was when she panicked,
and screamed.
When Tris reached her, she found Daja trapped by what looked like an ancient
grapevine - trunk, limbs and all -made of iron that still glowed orange with heat. It
was sprouting metal leaves.