"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 8 - Ithanalin's Restoration" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

them had clearly run across the end table.
If there were only some way to make the little pests useful, Kilisha thoughtтАФbut then she pushed the
thought aside and tried to concentrate on Lady Nuvielle. Ithanalin always told her to focus on the
customerтАФmagicians were paid for pleasing their patrons, not just for working magic.
And pleasing the Lady Treasurer, who happened to be not merely a top city official but the
next-to-youngest of the overlord's several aunts, was especially important. Kilisha could not help being
aware that she was in the presence of high-ranking nobility.
Lady Nuvielle noticed the girl's nervousness and smiled again, debating whether to try to put the girl at
ease, or whether to tease her and enjoy her discomfort. Still undecided, she asked a neutral question.
"Ithanalin is an unusual name. Is it Tintallionese?"
"I don't know, my lady," Kilisha replied. "I'm not sure it's any known language. Wizards often take
new names, for one reason or another." She shifted nervously. She was shading the truth; she knew her
master had taken his name from an old book he had read as a boy, and the book was not Tintallionese in
origin.
"I take it you have not dealt with many of your master's clients?" Nuvielle asked.
"Well," Kilisha said, shifting her feet, "I have assisted Ithanalin with his customers for a few years now,
but none of the other customers were asтАж as distinguished as yourself, my lady."
Nuvielle knew exactly what Kilisha referred to, and that it wasn't just her office of treasurer for the
city of Ethshar of the Rocks. She grew suddenly bored and annoyed with the apprentice's uncaseтАФshe
was tired of being feared because of who her brother had been, and who her nephew was. "Oh, calm
down, girl," she said. "Sit down and relax. I'm not going to eat you."
"Yes, my lady," the apprentice said, settling cautiously onto a straight-backed wooden chair set at an
angle to the couch. She tucked her brown wool skirt neatly under her as she sat.
Nuvielle looked Kilisha over. She was a little on the short side, and plumper than was entirely
fashionable just at the moment. Her hair was a nondescript brown, pleasant enough, but utterly dull, worn
long and straight and tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were hazelтАФnot brown flecked with green, or
green flecked with brown, either of which might sometimes be called hazelтАФbut the real thing, a solid
color somewhere between brown and green, neither one nor the other. Instead of apprentice robes she
wore a plain wool skirt a shade darker than her hair, a pale yellow tunic that came to mid-thigh, and a
stiff leather pouch and a drawstring purse on her belt. A leather-and-feather hair ornament was the only
touch of bright color or interest anywhere about her, and even that was something worn by any number
of girls in Ethshar of the Rocks. Her appearance was absolutely, completely, totally ordinary. The city
held thousands just like her, Nuvielle thought.
Though most, of course, weren't apprenticed to wizards. What sort of a future could anyone so
boring have, in so flamboyant a profession as wizardry? This girl looked utterly dull.
The noblewoman watched Kilisha for a moment, then turned away, determined to ignore the poor
little thing until the wizard arrived.
For her part, Kilisha was admiring this gorgeous customerтАФor rather, client, as the lady would have
it. The long black cloak, the rich green velvet, the white satin tunic embroidered in gold and scarlet, the
long gloves, the black hair bound up in an elaborate network of braids and ribbons, all seemed to Kilisha
to be the absolute epitome of elegance. When Nuvielle turned her head, Kilisha marveled at the graceful
profile and the smooth white skin. Kilisha had always thought that Yara, Ithanalin's wife, was just about
perfect, but she had to admit that that common soul's appearance couldn't begin to compare with Lady
Nuvielle's.
And Kilisha's own looks, she thought, weren't even up to Yara's.
Then, at last, before she could pursue this depressing line of thought any further, Ithanalin finally
emerged from the workshop, his hands behind his back.
"My apologies for the delay, Lady Nuvielle," he said, with a sketchy sort of bow. "I wanted to be
sure everything about your purchase was perfect."
 Kilisha grimaced slightly, unnoticed by the others. The real cause for delay had been the need to