Название: The Painted Man
Автор: Peter Brett V.
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Героическая фантастика
isbn: 9780007287758
isbn:
Immediately, Arlen knew what it was: a portable warding circle, large enough to surround the cart and more besides. âIâve never seen anything like it,â Arlen said.
âTheyâre not easy to make,â the Messenger said. âMost Messengers spend their whole apprenticeship mastering the art. No wind or rain is going to smudge those wards. But even then, theyâre not the same as having warded walls and a door.
âEver see a coreling face-to-face, boy?â he asked, turning and looking at Arlen hard. âWatched it take a swipe at you with nowhere to run and nothing to protect you except magic you canât see?â He shook his head. âMaybe Iâm being too hard on Keerin. He handled his test all right. Screamed a bit, but thatâs to be expected. Night after night is another matter. Takes its toll on some men, always worried that a stray leaf will land on a ward, and then â¦â He hissed suddenly and swiped a clawed hand at Arlen, laughing when the boy jumped.
Arlen ran his thumb over each smooth, lacquered ward, feeling their strength. There was one of the little plates for every foot of rope, much as there would be in any warding. He counted more than forty of them. âCanât wind demons fly into a circle this big?â he asked. âDa puts posts up to keep them from landing in the fields.â
The man looked over at him, a little surprised. âYour daâs probably wasting his time,â he said. âWind demons are strong fliers, but they need running space or something to climb and leap from in order to take off. Not much of either in a cornfield, so theyâd be reluctant to land, unless they saw something too tempting to resist, like some little boy sleeping in the field on a dare.â He looked at Arlen in that same way Jeph did, when warning Arlen that the corelings were serious business. As if he didnât know.
âWind demons also need to turn in wide arcs,â Ragen continued, âand most of them have a wingspan larger than that circle. Itâs possible that one could get in, but Iâve never seen it happen. If it does, though â¦â He gestured to the long, thick spear he kept next to him.
âYou can kill a coreling with a spear?â Arlen asked.
âProbably not,â Ragen replied, âbut Iâve heard that you can stun them by pinning them against your wards.â He chuckled. âI hope I never have to find out.â
Arlen looked at him, wide-eyed.
Ragen looked back at him, his face suddenly serious. âMessengeringâs dangerous work, boy,â he said.
Arlen stared at him a long time. âIt would be worth it, to see the Free Cities,â he said at last. âTell me true, whatâs Fort Miln like?â
âItâs the richest and most beautiful city in the world,â Ragen replied, lifting his mail sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his forearm of a city nestled between two mountains. âThe Dukeâs Mines run rich with salt, metal, and coal. Its walls and rooftops are so well warded, itâs rare for the house wards to even be tested. When the sun shines on its walls, it puts the mountains themselves to shame.â
âNever seen a mountain,â Arlen said, marvelling as he traced the tattoo with a finger. âMy da says theyâre just big hills.â
âYou see that hill?â Ragen asked, pointing north of the road.
Arlen nodded. âBogginâs Hill. You can see the whole Brook from up there.â
Ragen nodded. âYou know what a âhundredâ means, Arlen?â he asked.
Arlen nodded again. âTen pairs of hands.â
âWell even a small mountain is bigger than a hundred of your Bogginâs Hills piled on top of each other, and the mountains of Miln are not small.â
Arlenâs eyes widened as he tried to contemplate such a height. âThey must touch the sky,â he said.
âSome are above it,â Ragen bragged. âAtop them, you can look down at the clouds.â
âI want to see that one day,â Arlen said.
âYou could join the Messengersâ guild, when youâre old enough,â Ragen said.
Arlen shook his head. âDa says the people that leave are deserters,â he said. âHe spits when he says it.â
âYour da doesnât know what heâs talking about,â Ragen said. âSpitting doesnât make things so. Without Messengers, even the Free Cities would crumble.â
âI thought the Free Cities were safe?â Arlen asked.
âNowhere is safe, Arlen. Not truly. Miln has more people and can absorb the deaths more easily than a place like Tibbetâs Brook, but the corelings still take a toll each year.â
âHow many people are in Miln?â Arlen asked. âWe have nine hundreds in Tibbetâs Brook, and Sunny Pasture up the ways is supposed to be almost as big.â
âWe have over thirty thousands in Miln,â Ragen said proudly.
Arlen looked at him, confused.
âA thousand is ten hundreds,â the Messenger supplied.
Arlen thought a moment, then shook his head. âThere ent that many people in the world,â he said.
âThere are and more,â Ragen said. âThereâs a wide world out there, for those willing to brave the dark.â
Arlen didnât answer, and they rode in silence for a time.
It took about an hour and a half for the trundling cart to reach Town Square. The centre of the Brook, Town Square held just over two dozen warded wooden houses for those whose trade did not have them working in the fields or rice paddies, fishing, or cutting wood. It was here one came to find the tailor and the baker, the farrier, the cooper, and the rest.
At the centre lay the square where people would gather, and the biggest building in the Brook, the general store. It had a large open front room that housed tables and the bar, an even larger storeroom in back, and a cellar below, filled with almost everything of value in the Brook.
Hogâs daughters, Dasy and Catrin, ran the kitchen. Two credits could buy a meal to leave you stuffed, but Silvy called old Hog a cheat, since two credits could buy enough raw grain for a week. Still, plenty of unmarried men paid the price, and not all for the food. Dasy was homely and Catrin fat, but Uncle Cholie said the men who married them would be set for life.
Everyone in the Brook brought Hog their goods, be it corn or meat or fur, pottery or cloth, furniture or tools. Hog took the items, counted them up, and gave the customers credits to buy other СКАЧАТЬ