"Joan D. Vinge - The Storm King" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vinge Joan D)

тАЬI can see that,тАЭ the stranger muttered, staggering in ankle-deep mud. He
climbed back onto the boards with some difficulty and obvious disgust. тАЬMaybe if
they did youтАЩd have streets and not rivers of muck in this town.тАЭ He turned away in
anger, almost stumbled over a mud-colored girl blocking his forward progress on
the boardwalk.

тАЬYou priests should bow down to the Storm King!тАЭ The girl postured
insolently, looking toward the priest. тАЬThe dragon can change all our lives more in
one night than your gods have done in a lifetime.тАЭ

тАЬSlut!тАЭ The priest shook his carven staff at her; its neck-lace of golden bells
chimed like absurd laughter. тАЬThereтАЩs a witch for you, beggar. If you think she can
teach you to tame the dragon, then go with her!тАЭ He turned away, disappearing into
the temple. The strangerтАЩs body jerked, as though it strained against his control,
wanting to strike at the priestтАЩs retreating back.

тАЬYouтАЩre a witch?тАЭ The stranger turned and glared down at the bony figure
standing in his way, found her studying him back with obvious skepticism. He
imagined what she sawтАФa foreigner, his straight black hair whacked off like a serfтАЩs,
his clothes crawling with filth, his face grimed and gaunt and set in a bitter grimace.
He frowned more deeply.

The girl shook her head. тАЬNo. IтАЩm just bound to her. You have business to
take up with her, I seeтАФabout the Storm King.тАЭ She smirked, expecting him to
believe she was privy to secret knowledge.

тАЬAs you doubtless overheard, yes.тАЭ He shifted his weight from one leg to the
other, trying fruitlessly to ease the pain in his back.

She shrugged, pushing her own tangled brown hair back from her face. тАЬWell,
youтАЩd better be able to pay for it, or youтАЩve come a long way from Kwansai for
nothing.тАЭ

He started, before he realized that his coloring and his eyes gave that much
away. тАЬI can pay.тАЭ He drew his dagger from its hidden sheath; the only weapon he
had left, and the only thing of value. He let her glimpse the jeweled hilt before he
pushed it back out of sight.
 Her gray eyes widened briefly. тАЬWhat do I call you, Prince of Thieves?тАЭ with
another glance at his rags.

тАЬCall me Your Highness,тАЭ not lying, and not quite joking.

She looked up into his face again, and away. тАЬCall me Nothing, Your
Highness. Because I am nothing.тАЭ She twitched a shoulder at him. тАЬAnd follow me.тАЭ

****

They passed the last houses of the village without further speech, and followed the
mucky track on into the dark, dripping forest that lay at the mountainтАЩs feet. The girl