Keyki: переводы

→Reva saw little reason for stealth or further delay. This needed doing quickly before Al Sorna missed her.

→“We’re going south,” Ellora said. “The Summertide Fair in Mealinscove always reaps a healthy profit.” There was a guardedness to her tone and a clear discomfort at the Darkblade’s presence. Smart enough to know he brings death everywhere he goes, Reva surmised.

→“Player or not, my lord,” Norin said. “You know you’re welcome in this company. For as long as you wish.”

→He just shrugged. “All I did in the Isles was take part in a play. Though, I’m not much of a player.”

→“And a thousand more of your escape,” Norin went on. “They say you fashioned a mace from your chains with the aid of the Departed and slew your way out of the Emperor’s dungeons. I wrote a song about it, always goes down well.”

→Al Sorna gave a soft touch to her arm as the two players shared an evil laugh. He inclined his head to the left and she followed as he moved through the crowd, making for a gap between the line of wagons. She was unsurprised to find the mandolin player there, eyes bright in the shadows, drinking in the sight of Al Sorna as he drew back his hood.

→His anger made her take a firmer grip on the knife. “This land is thick with thievery and murder, Darkblade. I’ve seen death before. We’ve been lucky not to have drawn any outlaws ourselves.”

→Al Sorna’s gaze was moving over the scene with an intensity she hadn’t seen before, scanning the ground as he moved, tracking. “This happened at least a day and a half ago,” Reva said. “Any tracks will be stale. They’ll be in the nearest town, drinking and whoring with whatever spoils they got here.”

→She followed at a short distance. She still carried the bow and wondered if she should notch an arrow but decided against it, her archery skills were hardly a threat to whatever might await them in the trees. She drew her knife instead, eyes continually seeking movement, finding only the sway of branches in the wind.

→He made arrows from another ash branch, sharpening the points as they had no metal for arrowheads. “Should do for birds,” he said. “Couldn’t take on a boar with it though, need iron-heads to get through the ribs.”

→“It was at your command, your attack on his holy mission . . .”

→As night fell he left the road, entering the woods to seek out a campsite. She tracked him to a small clearing sheltered beneath the branches of a large yew, hiding herself in a shallow ditch behind a copse of gorse, watching through the weave of ferns as he made his camp. It was all done with an impressive economy, the near-unconscious actions of a practised wilds-man; wood gathered, fire lit, ground cleared and bedroll laid in the space of what seemed mere moments.