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

woman turned her face towards the forge.
УWhere is the smith?Ф she called, her voice ringing from the metal all around them. УI
desire to speak with the smith, immediately! There is work to be done, work for
which Tenth Caravan Idaram will pay!Ф
Tris, Daja called with her magic. Tris, I need you.
Behind the smithy, Tris sighed. The worst part about helping Daja, as far as she was
concerned, was the interruptions. Rather than answer, she reached out and gripped a
fistful of air. Giving it a twist, she threw it like a spear through the opening in the
wall. That done, she ran nail-bitten fingers through her very short red hair, thrust her
brass-rimmed spectacles higher on her long nose, and went back to reading.
Inside the smithy, flames roared like dragonfire out of the bed of hot coals. The
Trader flinched.
/ donТt need more air! Daja informed her friend. / need help!
IТm busy, came TrisТs reply. Get someone else.
There isnТt anyone else.
УI have no choice but to stand here and hope that someone will tell me where I can
find the smith,Ф the Trader announced, turning her back to Daja. If Daja spoke, she
knew that the Trader would pretend not to hear: that was how Traders handled
trangshi. УIt is most urgent that I speak to a smith - to a real smith.Ф
Trisana Chandler, I need you right now/ thought Daja fiercely.
Furious, Tris rose, shook out her skirts and petticoats, closed her book and stuck it
into the pocket of her gown. Sparks glimmered at the ends of her hair as she stomped
around the side of the building. Coming to a halt beside the Trader, she scowled up at
the woman with storm-grey eyes. Her pale, lightly freckled skin was blotched red and
white with anger; the two-inch strands of her coppery hair were rising to stand at
angles to her head.
УWhat do you want?Ф she demanded. УI was reading.Ф
УI want the smith,Ф the Trader snapped back. УI am Polyam, wirok of Tenth Caravan
Idaram. I have business for him.Ф
УThe smith is out riding with the Duke of Emelan,Ф Tris informed her. УThereТs my
friend Daja Kisubo. SheТs all the smith youТll get till they come back!Ф
УIТm trangshi, remember?Ф Daja asked patiently. УBy Trader law I donТt exist. If I
donТt exist, then she canТt talk to me or hear me. Get hold of yourself, will you?
YouТre sparking all over the place.Ф
Tris raked her fingers through her hair, and examined the fistful of light she had
gathered. УShurri defend us,Ф she muttered. Closing her fingers, she killed the sparks.
Polyam backed away from her. УIf I had a choice, I would go somewhere else,Ф she
informed Tris. УBut I donТt. ItТs two daysТ journey to the next blacksmith on this road.
I will wait until this smith comes.Ф
УWhy donТt you tell me what you want, and IТll tell Daja,Ф Tris said, a shade too
patiently. УThen she can do what you need and you can go away with your whole
caravan.Ф
УIf a trangshi were here, I could not accept work from that trangshfs hand,Ф replied
Polyam. УEven if you handled it before me. I must have a smith. One that is not
unclean.Ф
Now tiny lightning bolts rippled over TrisТs hair and around the frames of her
spectacles. The Trader clung to her staff with both hands, her dark face ashy with fear.
УSheТs a xurdin, not a yeruiФ Daja said quickly. She knew Polyam heard, but there
was still custom to observe - she wouldnТt admit that she had. УTris, tell her youТre a
xurdin, a mage. She thinks youТre a yerui, a hungry ghost-devil. That your magic will