"Brian Daley - Doomfarers of Coramonde" - читать интересную книгу автора (Daley Brian)

gentle old man's murder. Springbuck's lips drew back in a soundless snarl.
He prized loose the panel and retrieved his wallet; then he took out his sword and, gripping it so
tightly that his hand shook, returned to the bedroom. Through hot tears forming, he saw a bundle
lying behind the door and opened it with a vicious kick to survey its contents, Duskwind's
traveling clothes and accouterments. He moved to the bedside, glaring down at the bound girl, his
face fell to look upon, until she consigned her soul to the gods of her house.
But they had been lovers; she had meant a great deal
Of Deaths, Of Departure 19
to him in that time, and he could not bring himself to kill her. Shame at events in the throne


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room and his growing impulse to be away, coupled with grief for Faurbuhl, numbed him and drained
his thirst for revenge; he'd shown no merit himself in the night's tragedies. He searched her
imploring eyes.
"What reward did they offer you?" he wondered aloud. "What wages to slay my friend and then flee?
Was it to be blamed on me? Is that why Captain Brodur left me here so handily? Be still! I'll not
kill you, though I ought to; I give you your life and leave you to your own devices. But I vow,
the next moment that I see you will be your last."
And because he wouldn't have her see a Prince of Coramonde weep he sheathed his sword with a clash
and took up the brightly lacquered war mask he'd obtained, with its colorful crest of plumes. He
set it on his head, covering ail of his face save mouth and brimming eyes. Tying the wallet to his
sword belt, he fetched his long cloak and swirled it around him. Concealed from throat to heels,
plumes bobbing behind, he drew back the bolt and let himself into the corridor. There were no
guards in that part of Earthfast, nor were any needed since Fania's own picked men manned the
gates with orders not to permit him egress, and they were under the impression that he was in
custody and under guard.
But of this he cared little; he simply wanted to leave Earthfast forever.
Chapter Three
They all hold swords, being expert in war; every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear
in the night.
THE SONG OF SONGS, Which Is Solomon's
HE'D readied a story against being stopped by the port-glaves, of being confused and lost in
looking to rejoin his "master," the eavoy from Alebowrene, the sort of thing that happened often
in Earthfast with so many visitors and their retinues quartered there. Crossing the open exercise
areas he came to the stables, filled with the ceaseless sounds and thick smells of horses of all
sorts: brave coursers and glum-faced palfreys, massive destriers, well-formed jumpers and the
enormous draft annuals that pulled the war drays of the entourage from Matloo.
Springbuck had planned to take his own horse, Fire-heel, but found the big gray gone from his
stall and was afraid to inquire after it with a groom for fear of recognition. Instead, he
selected a light reconnaissance cavalryman's saddle and began to ready a swift-looking ronc-in
bearing the markings of the High Ranges on its flanks and Earthfast's croppings on its ear. The
horse proved balky though, shying from him and whinnying softly. His warmask, light as it was, yet
made things more troublesome, and so he removed it and set it aside. He finished quickly and
turned to reopen the stall door, to find himself faced with a figure from his past. The light was
poor but he still knew his old playmate Micko, stableboy now, but close companion back in the days
when rank meant less and larking was the order of the day. Micko was at one with animals, just as
his father was, though he hadn't inherited his sire's affinity