"Pierce, Tamora - The Circle Opens 01 - Magic Steps" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pierce Tamora)

Pasco rubbed his face, ordering his traitorous body to move. " 'S a disgusting
hour to be about," he grumbled.
"No arguments here. What's the deal, anyway?"
Pasco swung his legs out from under the blanket and leaned against his oldest
sister. Their long, amber- skinned faces labeled them as kin: the same winged
black brows over ebony-colored, eyes, noses a little too short, and. straight
mouths a little too wi de. At twelve Pasco was just starting to get his growth,
his thin body coltish as he wrestled with arms and legs that tended to go every
which way.
"A friend, wants a favor," the boy mumbled as he pulled on his garments, tying
the string that held up his breeches as tight as he could manage. His shirt
required no buttoning, which was why he'd picked it out last night. The less; he
had to do before he was properly awake, the better.
"What: kind of favor?" Halmaedy demanded, suspi cious. "This isn't off the
straight, is it? BecauseЧ,"
Pasco ruffled her hairЧglossy black, cropped short on the sides and left to grow
long on top, just like his. "You're home now," he reminded her. "No need for
harrier work here." Harrier was; street slang for a Provost's Guard. "An Acalon
off the straight?" he went on, his voice strangled as he bent over to don his
shoes. "The very skies would cry at it. Go to bed, Halmy. Try to dream of
something beside arresting drunks and house breakers."
She punched at her brother halfheartedly; he ducked under her fist, blew a kiss
at her, and left his room. He didn't bother to sneak by the garret room where
the maids wereЧthey had proved able to snore through hurricanes and his mothers
first shout for them to get out of bedЧbut was quieter going down the stairs. He
went noiselessly past his sisters' rooms and ghosted past the floor where his
parents slept. Mama was the one to step quietly for. Once his father fell
asleep, only his snor ing proved he was not dead. Mama had the fox-ears, asleep
and, awake.
Down to the ground floor, a quick nip into the kitchen for some bread, then a
five-minute jog to the docks. Osabo Netmender was in his boat at Godsluck Wharf.
Once Pasco was aboard, Osa put his back into the oars, hauling the boat clear of
the commercial docks and guiding it east, along Summersea's shoreline.
"I can't believe you're out of bed," Osa told his friend.
"Halmy woke me after her watch," said Pasco, yawn ing. "Look, this isn't some
joke, is it? Your dad really thinks I can bring luck to his ship?"
"It's no joke," replied Osa, rowing with practiced ease. "Not when he's promised
to pay you a silver crescent. Pa never jokes about money. And its the whole
fleet, not just our boat."
Pasco shook his head, A silver crescent was too much money for any kind of jest.
"I just don't understand," he muttered, stretching.
"Look, you danced for luck on the entrance examinations, and the temple took me
to be a student there," Osa, said reasonably. "You danced luck for Adesina, and
her baby popped out slick as seaweedЧ"
"Stop it," ordered Pasco. "That baby would've come easy without anyone's help.
There was a temple midwife with her the whole time."
"And what was a temple birth-mage doing walking by the fishing village: at just
the right moment?" argued Osa.
УI'll bet you. a copper crescent my dancing for fish don't do a whisper of good,