"Jennifer Roberson - Karavans 01 - Karavans" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberson Jennifer)

promise: тАЬ Find me a dead Shoia, and IтАЩ ll triple your wages.тАЭ
The hireling, halfway through the tent flap, glanced back over his shoulder. Light eyes above the
gray-threaded reddish beard were grimly amused. тАЬ I find me a dead Shoia in town, and you can sell my
bones for the Kantica. Shoia look after their own.тАЭ He paused, grimacing. тАЬ If any bones are left.тАЭ
The tent flap settled behind MerriqтАЩ s departure with a melodic rattle as strings of charms were disturbed. Bird
bones. Vermin bones. Rabbit. The skull of a cat. Suspended on thin, knotted twine interspersed with brass,
colored glass, and clay beads, hollowed bones pierced to let the wind through. Ordinarily they made a
pleasant sound to ears familiar with the song. But just now the noise reminded Hezriah that if more bodies
were not to be found soon, heтАЩ d likely lose a customer or two.
тАЬ Eccul will be digging them up from the graveyard, despite the punishment for it, and cut out the rest of us
entirely,тАЭ the bonedealer muttered; Eccul, after all, had no ethics. He took the easy way, rites and
permissions be damned.
Shaking his head, Hezriah squatted on black canvas before the flat sheet of heavy green-gray stoneтАФ the
bonedealerтАЩ s anvil, it was called in the tradeтАФ and returned to the work interrupted by MerriqтАЩ s arrival. He
took up the hammerтАФ a smooth, round, purplish river rock bound by leather onto a sweat-stained wooden
haftтАФ and began smashing the heavy thigh bone to pieces. Chips and splinters would show up against the
black fabric flooring, so the attrition rate was negligible.
тАЬ Horse will do for now,тАЭ he murmured, smashing away, тАЬ but IтАЩ d rather have a Shoia.тАЭ
Shoia bones were a bonedealerтАЩ s lottery. They made the best auguries for the Kantic diviners, who found
omens and portents in the bones themselves prior to burning, and in the ash after. But Shoia bones generally
remained housed in Shoia flesh, which was, predictably, not particularly amenable to dying for anyoneтАЩ s
sake, let alone a bonedealerтАЩ s. Or even a Kantic divinerтАЩ s.
There was Rhuan. And there was Brodhi. Hezriah didnтАЩ t personally know of other Shoia, here in the
settlement or anywhere in the world. And both were currently in residence, though as likely to leave soon. But
Merriq was right. No citizen who knew what they were would attempt to kill either Rhuan or Brodhi. Not even
Eccul, who had no ethics; Eccul dug up bones, but did not stoop to murder.
Hezriah glowered. Yet.
No, only a stranger might attempt to kill a Shoia, and even if it was true they could dieтАФ after six other
deaths firstтАФ no one knew how to keep count.
Except probably the Shoia themselves, who very likely wouldnтАЩ t tell.
Hezriah wondered briefly if Brodhi knew how many deaths Rhuan had left, or if Rhuan knew BrodhiтАЩ s count.
HeтАЩ d heard a story that Rhuan had been killed here in the settlement before he hired on as a guide for JordaтАЩ
s karavan, but no one knew if it was true. At any rate, neither Rhuan nor Brodhi showed any signs of dropping
over dead on their own.
тАЬ Cursed Shoia,тАЭ Hezriah muttered, wishing them to Alisanos along with the worthless horseflies. тАЬ The world
would be an easier place if they died just once, like everyone else!тАЭ
But Shoia did not die just once. And there were numerous tales of how various murdered Shoia, rousing back
into life, avenged themselves on their killers.
тАЬ Seven times. Seven times dead, dead for good. Then I could have the bones.тАЭ
The bones, and everything else. He could dole out the body to various divination denominations. Teeth, hair,
nails, certainly the entrails. Plus other bits and pieces.
But Hezriah would be a very wealthy man even if all he got were the bones. The practitioners of the Kantica
were supremely generous when it came to buying Shoia bones. Everything else was gravy.
BRODHI WAS AWARE of others eyeing him as he strode into the ale tent. It never stopped, the watching.
Oh, those grown accustomed to his race, to his presence among them, had learned to mitigate to some
degree the overt fear, the perverse fascination, but none of them was ever entirely successful at obscuring
their fervid interest. They wondered, he knew, how Shoia magic manifested, how it worked, and what it felt
like.
In truth, magic didnтАЩ t feel like anything in particular. It resided within his bones and blood the way breath lived
in his lungs, the way his heart beat: steadily, unceasing, wholly unremarkable. It was, nothing more.