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

The Semman aristocrat apparently gave up on direct communication with her
captive and gave the interpreter a long message to relay. He interrupted her
twice, requesting clarifications -- at least that was what Sterren judged to
be happening, since each interruption was followed by a careful repetition of
an earlier phrase.
Finally, the sailor turned to Sterren and explained, "She says she was
sent by her king, Phenvel the Third, to find the heir of your grandmother's
brother, the Eighth Warlord, who died four months ago. She consulted a
magician -- I'm not clear on what sort -- and that led her to you. She is to
bring you back to Semma to receive your title and inheritance and to fulfill
your hereditary duties as the new warlord -- you're Enne Karnai, the Ninth
Warlord."
"That's silly," Sterren replied. He relaxed somewhat. If the story were
true, then his worries about vengeance were groundless, and he saw no reason
for the woman to bother lying.
"That's what she said," the sailor replied with a shrug.
"What if I won't go?" he asked. While it might be nice to have an
inheritance waiting for him, that bit about 'hereditary duties' didn't sound
good, and he wanted nothing to do with wars or warlords. Wars were dangerous.
Besides, who would want to live among barbarians? Particularly among
barbarians who apparently didn't speak Ethsharitic.
The idea was ludicrous.
The interpreter relayed his question, and Lady Kalira's face fell. She
spoke an authoritative sentence; the sailor hesitantly translated it as,
"Failure to perform one's duty to one's country is treason, and treason is
punishable by immediate summary execution."
"Execution?" The inheritance suddenly sounded much more attractive.
Lady Kalira said something in Semmat; the smiles vanished from the faces
of the soldiers, and each dropped a hand to his sword hilt.
"But it's not my country!" Sterren protested. "I was born and raised here
in Ethshar, of Ethsharitic parents!" He looked from the sailor to Lady Kalira
and back.
The sailor shrugged, a gesture that was getting on Sterren's nerves. Lady
Kalira said, in halting Ethsharitic, "You, the heir."
Sterren looked despairingly at the two soldiers; he could see no chance
at all that he could outrun or outfight either of them, let alone both. The
one on the left slid a few inches of his blade from its scabbard, in warning.
"Hai! No bloodshed in here! Take him outside first!" The innkeeper's
voice was worried.
No one paid any attention to his outburst -- save that, Sterren hoped he
would call the city guard.
Hoping for the city guard was a new experience for him.
Even if they were summoned, though, they could not possibly arrive in
time to do him any good. He had no way out. Struggling to smile, Sterren
managed a ghastly parody of a grin as he said, "I guess I'll be going to
Semma, then."
Lady Kalira smiled smugly.


CHAPTER 2