Stormtide. Den Patrick
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Название: Stormtide

Автор: Den Patrick

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Сказки

Серия: Ashen Torment

isbn: 9780008228187

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ She paused and waved to a tall woman with long, dark red hair who served with the crew and went by the name of Rylska.

      ‘Can you keep an eye on that boy up there?’

      Rylska beamed a broad smile and saluted enthusiastically. ‘Of course! I don’t know much about children, but then I didn’t know much about sailing when the captain took me on, so why not?’ She began climbing, whistling cheerfully as she went. Kimi watched the red-haired pirate ascend to the crow’s nest.

      ‘That didn’t exactly inspire confidence, did it?’ Marozvolk chuckled and then looked at the city. ‘Will our reception really be that bad?’ she asked.

      ‘Two unescorted, dark-skinned women on the west coast of Vinterkveld.’ Kimi cocked her head to one side. ‘I don’t know what to think.’ She looked over Marozvolk’s cream robes. ‘But I do know we should get you some new clothes. Clothes that don’t hint at your former occupation.’

      The boarding ramp had barely made contact with the stone pier when Kimi set foot on it. A few steps and she was swiftly on dry land. For the first time in weeks she felt as if she could breathe again, away from the novices, away from Steiner.

      ‘Shouldn’t we wait for the others?’ said Marozvolk, hesitating as she reached the cobbled pier, but Kimi was already moving, keen to be among the bustle of Virag’s winding streets.

      ‘Romola said we should split up and scout ahead,’ shouted Kimi over her shoulder. ‘So that’s what I’m doing.’ Maxim and Rylska waved from the crow’s nest while Steiner stood at the prow, watching her leave.

      It took Marozvolk a few minutes to weave through the crowds at the docks and catch up with the princess. Kimi held her sleeve up to her nose and mouth as they pressed deeper in to the city.

      ‘It smells worse than the Izhorian swamps in summer,’ she muttered darkly in her mother tongue.

      ‘And what do they smell of?’ replied Marozvolk.

      ‘Death, mainly. Anyone travelling from Yamal to Midtenjord rarely survives that journey.’

      ‘I’m from the south coast,’ replied Marozvolk. ‘Or … I was before I was taken. There was never much call to go anywhere near Izhoria.’

      ‘Just as well,’ said Kimi with a grim smile. ‘The swamps don’t really smell of death, but they do smell of sulphur and I don’t know what’s worse.’ The two women turned a corner and found themselves on a wide thoroughfare full of carts and horses. Dung, mud, and rotting food spattered the cobbled street.

      ‘What kept you?’ said Kimi as she stepped around something foul.

      ‘What do you mean?’ replied Marozvolk.

      ‘You took a while to catch up after I disembarked. Did Steiner ask you to have a word with me?’ Marozvolk shook her head, then caught the stern glint in Kimi’s eyes and sighed.

      ‘He did speak with me. He’s concerned about you. He doesn’t blame you for being angry with him—’

      ‘I should think not,’ snapped Kimi.

      Marozvolk cleared her throat. ‘What happened between you two?’ Kimi stopped walking, then pulled out the sliver of stone that hung from a chain about her neck.

      ‘This is all that’s left of the Ashen Torment. One of the mightiest artefacts in all of Vinterkveld and this’ – the jagged rock was no larger than Marozvolk’s little finger – ‘is all that’s left of it.’

      ‘Felgenhauer told me about its existence. And what it does,’ replied Marozvolk. ‘What happened? How did it …?’

      ‘I lent it to him so he could command the cinderwraiths to rise up against those loyal to the Empire.’ Kimi’s eyes became hard, her mouth a narrow line. ‘When he was done he destroyed it with that damn sledgehammer he’s so fond of waving about.’

      ‘No ordinary weapon could unmake an artefact of such power,’ said Marozvolk with a frown. ‘The Ashen Torment was crafted by Bittervinge himself.’

      ‘The sledgehammer is most decidedly not ordinary, that much is clear.’ They resumed walking at a much slower pace.

      ‘But the destruction of the Ashen Torment is a good thing,’ said Marozvolk slowly. ‘Those souls could pass on to the afterlife once they had been released.’

      ‘True enough, but when the Emperor hears that I let his most powerful artefact be destroyed he’ll send soldiers south to Yamal and wipe out every last one of us as punishment.’ Kimi felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes and told herself it was the city’s smoke that made them smart. ‘I’d forgotten how fragrant western cities are.’ She coughed behind her sleeve.

      ‘Why didn’t you stop him from destroying it?’ asked Marozvolk, her voice low, a note of caution in her words.

      ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question ever since we left the island,’ Kimi growled with frustration. ‘He wanted to make sure no one else rose up as a cinderwraith. It’s hard to say no to something like that.’

      ‘And what will you do now?’

      ‘I need to return to Yamal and speak to my father. We need to gather the tribes and prepare for war. I owe the sly bastard that much.’

      Marozvolk remained silent and looked uneasy.

      ‘What is it?’ asked Kimi.

      ‘Nothing. I just …’ Marozvolk, stripped of her snarling wolf-faced mask, was an open book. Her expressive face told of a deep worry that consumed her. ‘I’m not sure I can go back to Yamal, Your Highness. I want to. I want to help you, protect you if I must, but … my parents disowned me when I failed the Invigilation.’ Marozvolk shook her head and looked away.

      ‘What would your parents do if they saw you?’ asked Kimi gently, slowing her stride. ‘What could they do? They should be grateful you’re alive at all.’

      ‘Part of me would give anything to see my family again,’ said Marozvolk, eyes downcast. ‘But they disowned me in a heartbeat. I can’t go back to that.’

      Kimi eyed the other woman for moment. They’d shared a cramped cabin for three weeks but carefully avoided any difficult conversations. Until now. All their efforts at interaction had been directed at caring for Maxim. Without the distraction of the boy, Kimi was painfully reminded that Marozvolk had been one of her former jailers, but it seemed even jailers had problems of their own.

      The women continued into the city in silence. The buildings stood three storeys tall, so different to the nomadic tents of Yamal. Virag’s rooftops were adorned in grey slate as opposed to the thatch more common in the northern reaches of Vinterkveld.

      ‘Everything is grey and damp here,’ said Kimi. ‘It’s a wonder anyone gets out of bed.’

      ‘Hard to disagree with that,’ replied Marozvolk. The further they ventured away from the docks the more people watched them pass. Eyes filled with suspicion followed their passing, or was it merely curiosity?

      ‘I imagine most sailors from Shanisrond or Yamal stay near the docks,’ СКАЧАТЬ