"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 10 - The Vondish Ambassador" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

crewman stood in the bow holding a line; seeing Emmis's signal, he nodded and
began swinging the rope, building momentum. When he flung it Emmis was ready
and waiting; he grabbed the painter and threw a loop around the bollard he had
been sitting on, securing it with a neat half-hitch.
Then he trotted toward the stern, where another crewman was readying
another line.
A few moments later the ship was secured alongside the dock, sails
furled and gangplank out. Emmis waited by the plank тАУ he knew better than to
board any ship without explicit permission from its master, and as yet he had
not spotted this vessel's captain. The man at the wheel wore the same faded
white blouse and blue kilt as any other sailor, without so much as a hat to
set him apart, and Emmis assumed he was merely the helmsman.
There was no sign of a pilot, which might be why the ship was here
rather than across the canal in Spicetown; the Newmarket sandbars could make
getting to the eastern wharves tricky. The more experienced foreign navigators
often made the approach themselves, rather than paying a pilot's fee, but no
one here looked very experienced. Judging by the visible excitement among the
crew of this vessel, Emmis doubted most of them had ever been in Ethshar of
the Spices before.
Then a hat appeared amidships, rising above the coaming of the main
hatch тАУ a large black hat trimmed with a red satin band and a magnificent
plume. It was followed by the head wearing it, and the rest of its owner,
climbing up the ladder from the deck below.
Emmis watched with great interest as this figure emerged.
He was rather short, with dark hair and a brown complexion; his beard
appeared to have been trimmed recently, but had clearly not taken to the idea
and bristled unevenly. He wore a red velvet coat trimmed with gold braid,
black piping, and gold buttons, and below the coat were fine black breeches.
Coat and breeches both had the look of new and unfamiliar garb.
His boots, when they finally appeared, were well-made and, unlike the
rest of his attire, well-worn.
Several of the sailors тАУ not all, but probably a majority тАУ bowed to
this person as he stepped over the coaming onto the deck. Emmis did not go
that far, but he straightened up respectfully.
The man in the red coat waved a brief acknowledgment of the bows, then
stamped toward the gangplank.
As he approached Emmis continued to eye him with interest. The foreigner
was at least forty, perhaps over fifty, though his hair showed only the
faintest hints of gray. He had the slightly saggy look of a man who had once
been fat but had lost weight, not from healthy exercise but because he wasn't
eating well. The fancy clothes fit him well, and had obviously been tailored
for him recently, but he didn't look entirely comfortable in them.
He paused at the gangplank and looked along the pier, from the seaward
end to the warehouses on East Wharf Street. He took note of the sailors who
had secured the lines, of the handful of other workers finally making their
way out from shore, and of Emmis, standing there ready.
"Who are you?" he demanded, speaking Ethsharitic with a slight accent.
Emmis did bow now. "Emmis of Shiphaven, at your service," he said.
The foreigner marched across the gangplank and stepped off onto the
pier, then turned to face Emmis.