"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 3 - The Unwilling Warlord" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

 "Why not?" the sailor demanded. "You're not still an apprentice, are
you?"
"What if I am? Where are you taking me? Who are you?" His remaining
assurance faded a little more; they wouldn't dare kill him here in the tavern,
probably not anywhere in Ethshar, but if they managed to remove him from the
city they could do anything they pleased. There was no law outside the walls
-- or at least Sterren knew of none.
"I'm just an interpreter..." the sailor began.
"What were those sparks?" Sterren interrupted.
The sailor waved the question away. "Nothing; I bought them on Wizard
Street to help find you. Really, I'm just an interpreter. I'm not the one
looking for you."
"Then who are these others, and what do they want with me?"
"The Lady Kalira is taking you to Semma," the sailor replied.
"The hell she is!" Sterren said. "I'm not leaving the city!" He was close
to panic; visions of death by slow torture flickered through his mind.
The sailor sighed. "I'm afraid you are, whether you like it or not."
"Why?" Sterren asked, letting a trace of panic into his voice in hopes of
inducing pity. "What do these people want with me?"
The man shrugged. "Don't ask me. They hired me in Akalla to get them to
Ethshar and find you, so I got them to Ethshar and found you. It's none of my
business what they want you for."
"It's my business, though!" Sterren pointed out. He tried to struggle;
the soldiers gave no sign they had even noticed. He subsided and demanded,
"You can ask, at least, can't you?"
"I can ask Lady Kalira," the sailor admitted. "Those two don't speak
Trader's Tongue, and for all I know they're the ones who want you." He seemed
appallingly disinterested.
"Ask her!" Sterren shrieked.
The sailor turned and said something.
The tall woman did not answer him, but stepped forward and spoke directly
to Sterren, saying very slowly and distinctly, "O'n Sterren, Enne Karnai
t'Semma."
"What the hell does that mean?" Sterren asked. He was about to say
something further when he realized that the two barbarians had released his
arms. He looked up at them and saw that their huge flat faces were broken into
broad grins. One stuck out an immense paw and shook Sterren's hand vigorously,
clasping it hard enough to sting. Utterly confused, Sterren asked the sailor,
"What did she say?"
"Don't ask me; that was Semmat, not Trader's Tongue. I don't speak
Semmat."
Lady Kalira saw Sterren's continued incomprehension and said, "Od'na ya
Semma!" When he still looked blank, she said, "Et'sharitic is bad." Her
pronunciation was horrendous.
Sterren stared for a moment, then turned to the sailor and demanded, "Is
she telling me my native tongue isn't fit for her to speak? Is this some sort
of barbarian ritual thing?" He was even more thoroughly confused than before.
"No, no, no," the sailor said, "she's just saying she can't speak it very
well. I don't think she knows more than a dozen words, to be honest, and I
taught her half of those on the way here."