| Английски оригинал | Перевод на български | |
|---|---|---|
Chapter Two | ||
The next day arrives, dull, overcast, and windless. I wake up shivering. I brought my magic warm cloak with me, but we've been sharing it. Lisutaris slept in it last night. I stride out onto the deck. | +1 | |
"I've had enough of this," I declare. "I'm as cold as a frozen pixie, not to mention wet as a mermaid's blanket. I'm stuck on a small boat with no beer, a depressed Sorcerer and an angry barbarian woman. I'm sick of it." | ||
I look up at the sky, and offer up a prayer to whichever Gods might be watching in these parts. | ||
"How about taking us back to land?" | ||
Nothing happens. We remain becalmed. I start to feel annoyed, and shake my fist at the sky. "I demand you take this boat back to shore!" | ||
Lisutaris arrives on deck and looks at me questioningly. "What are you doing?" | ||
"I'm demanding that the Gods take us back to land." | ||
"That's going to work," grunts the Sorcerer, and sits down wearily at the side of the boat. "I'll catch us some fish for breakfast." | ||
"I don't want fish. I'm fed up with fish. I want beer and I want to get back ashore." | ||
I start shaking my fist at the sky again. "Saint Quatinius? How about some help? We built statues of you all over Turai. Shouldn't you be doing something in return? I can't keep going on fish much longer. I need meat. And beer. A lot of beer." | ||
We remain becalmed. I feel irritated at Saint Quatinius. As a patron saint he's really not much help. Makri appears from her cabin, shivering. | ||
"Who is Thraxas shouting at?" | ||
"Saint Quatinius." | ||
"Has he gone mad?" | ||
Lisutaris nods. "He seems to have. Too much fish." | ||
"We'd still have some venison left if he'd been able to control himself." | ||
I glare at Makri. When we fled the city, I did have the foresight to bring along a large joint of venison. Properly rationed, it might have lasted for some time. Perhaps unwisely, I ate it all in one night, feeling in need of some proper sustenance. | ||
"So I ate all the venison. A man of my proportions can't keep going on fish. I need meat. And beer." | ||
I shake my fist at the sky again, and complain to Saint Quatinius. | ||
"You couldn't expect Thraxas to go for a week without beer without cracking up," says Makri, sitting down next to Lisutaris to share the warm cloak. | ||
I glare at her. "At least I'm trying to do something." | ||
"Do what? None of us even believe in Saint Quatinius." | ||
I gaze up to the sky. "Please do not abandon me because of this Orcish infidel, great Saint Quatinius. It's not my fault she doesn't believe in you." | ||
"Hey!" yells Makri. "I'm not an Orc. And stop shouting to that imaginary saint." | ||
"Ignore her, Saint Quatinius. Do not punish an honest Turanian citizen because he has the misfortune to be cast adrift with an unbelieving Orc." | ||
Makri storms up and stands in front of me. "Will you stop calling me an Orc!" | ||
Makri has one quarter Orcish blood. It can be a sensitive subject. | ||
"Maybe if you said a prayer as well we might get somewhere." | ||
Makri sneers. "I don't believe in your Western gods." | ||
"Well how about your Orcish ones?" | ||
"I don't believe in them either." | ||
I raise my hands in supplication. "You see what I have to put up with, Saint Quatinius? Send me back to land and I'll donate money to the nearest church." | ||
Makri growls in frustration. She looks up at the grey clouds above. "Saint Quatinius, I'll start believing in you if you just get me ashore so I can escape from this oaf." | ||
At that moment a wind springs up. Lisutaris rises to her feet. "It's coming from the south. If this keeps up it might get us back to land." | ||
"Aha!" says Makri, and looks smug. "Now who's the unbeliever?" | ||
"What do you mean?" | ||
"It was my prayer that brought the wind." | ||
"Stop talking nonsense," I say. | ||
"Nonsense? I didn't see the saints paying any attention to you shaking your fist. Hardly surprising. Then I make a polite request and here we are, on our way." She turns to Lisutaris. "You remember that time I stopped the rain in Turai? Do you think I might have some hidden religious powers?" | ||
I shake my head in disgust, then march to the bow to peer into the distance, hoping for a glimpse of land. There's no telling how far south we've drifted in the past week, but now at least we're heading in the right direction. | ||
"So how much money do you have in mind?" asks Lisutaris. | ||
"Pardon?" | ||
"You promised to donate to the church if Saint Quatinius took us back to land." | ||
"If we make it ashore I'll give it some thought." | ||
Shrouded in mist, we drift northwards for a long time. Such a long time that I start to worry. | ||
"What if we've gone so far west that there isn't any land left? We might just carry on till we– " | ||
I let the sentence hang unfinished. Makri looks at me. | ||
"I keep telling you Thraxas, the world is round. You can't fall off the edge." | ||
"I don't see why you're so sure about that." |