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

" Pasco told his friend.
The other boy winced. "That's too much like ill- wishing," he said, "We need the
fish, Pasco. We need 'em. bad."
I'm not: ill-wishing," retorted Pasco, offering some of his bread. Osa took a
piece. "I just never heard of a dance: that brought fish into nets before."
"Gran says it's an old one," Osa, said doggedly. "She's gonna teach it to you.
There's a song to go with it and everything. You'll see."
Pasco shrugged, and ate his breakfast in silence.
* * *
Despite the early hour, there were people about as the duke's party rode east on
Harbor Street, past Summersea's famed wharves. How the word got ahead of them
Sandry couldn't guess, but some of those who started their day before dawn
gathered along the way to greet their duke. Sailors, washerwomen, draymenЧtheir
ea ger looks and open smiles showed how glad they were to see Duke Vedris up and
about. Sandry had meant to turn back once they reached Long Wharf but, looking
ahead, she could see more of the locals emerging from ships and warehouses to
get a look at him.
Cat dirt, she thought, vexed. She didn't want him to do too much today, after
four weeks in bed and two weeks confined to his palace. At the same time she
knew his people had been frightened by his illness. They wanted to reassure
themselves that he was all right. One of the things he'd mentioned so often in
their talks since his heart attack was the need to keep a realm stable. People
who thought it might all go to pieces at any minute tended to do foolish things,
like pull their money from the banks, which would make them collapse, or plot to
set a new, stronger ruler on the throne.
Sandry watched her uncle as he patted the hand of a stout woman who had been
coiling rope on one of the wharves. In this lightЧa combination of lanterns,
torches, and a pale skyЧIt was hard to tell if he was tired yet. He seemed more
energetic than he'd been at Duke's Citadel, but it could be an act.
She looked at the grizzled sergeant in charge of their troop of guards. Last
night she had made a point of find ing the man and having a long chat with him
about today's ride. Now he nudged his mount over until they were side by side,
"He takes strength from them, milady," the sergeant told her quietly. "Same as
they do from him. I say let 'im go on a bit."
Sandry thought over what he'd said. At last she replied, "I suppose there's no
harm in going on. If it looks like, he's tiring, though, we turn back."
The sergeant bowed and returned to his soldiers. The word was passed among them
in scant whispers,
Sandry looked at the duke to find his eyes were on her. He raised his eyebrows,
and Sandry began to giggle. Trust her uncle to guess what the conversation had
been about!
On they rode, past Jansar Wharf and Sharyn Wharf. The duke seemed to be enjoying
himself, until he looked, up and saw a fat, turbaned man emerged, from the door
way of a large, gray stone building. Over the lintel was the sign ROKAT HOUSE:
MYRRH AND FINE SPICES in large, gilded letters, People moved out of the man's
way. Some of them, slower than their neighbors, were urged to do so by one of
the three bruisers who came with him, two men and a woman with arms like a black
smiths.
Sandry could feel the moment the Duke's Guards noticed the rough types. She
heard a creak of leather, a hushed clink of metal, and four of the squad urged