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

challenged and freely accepted.
Hightower tossed his cap aside, and the scrape of his sword coming clear of its scabbard was, to
Springbuck's mind, a terse announcement of imminent death.
They closed upon one another with no further word, as quiet wagering began among the onlookers,
who pressed inward a bit. Though Hightower was well seasoned, young Synfors was supple and
generally known to be expert with his unusual blades.
They clashed for a moment, the hurried conversation of blades too quick to follow well, and were
apart again. The Count had thrust with his right-hand rapier and replied to the Duke's instant
parry with a second thrust from the left-hand one. Surprisingly, Hightower had managed to bring
his big sword around in time to block that move too, but not in time to avoid sustaining a cut
along his shoulder.
The conduct of the duel, as everyone there knew, was not according to form or custom. The inequity
of weapons and the failure of the Queen to attempt mediation
10 THE DOOMFARERS OF CORAMONDE
were improprieties of the first water. But in that entire room, no one thought that the Duke would
live to register a complaint, whatever the outcome of the match itself. Springbuck was certain
that all of this had been forseen and that the Duke's famous temper had triggered the spontaneous-
seeming contest quite in accordance with some plan.
The Prince wondered vaguely where his stepbrother was and why Strongblade wasn't present. Perhaps
Fania hadn't wanted her son to be involved, fearing even Strongblade's ability to cope with the
fierce Hightower. Synfors began his predatory glide again, nearing the Duke and initiating the
same double-stroke attack, but suddenly found out to his brief dismay the difference between his
own sportman's accomplishments and the battle skill of his opponent, the wage of a lifetime of war
and drill.
Hightower took a double grip on the hand-and-a-half hilt of his sword and stepped deeply forward
and to the left, windmilling the heavy bastard blade to the right. Such was the speed of the older
man that Synfors missed his thrust as his point passed by his antagonist's shoulder, and such the
force of the Duke's stroke that the beautiful guard of the Count's right-hand rapier was smashed,
the hand beneath it broken and laid open to the bone.
Synfors screamed, dropping his right-hand sword and bringing the left up hi futile gesture.
Another time, Hightower might have let him live, but there was no restraint hi him tonight. The
second rapier was swept away, no more than thin procrastination, and the would-be executioner was
himself dead a heartbeat later.
Fania was plainly shaken at this quick brutality, but she turned to Yardifl Bey. When she turned
back to face the Court she seemed to have drawn strength and control from some quarter, and the
Prince began to wonder, between Queen and sorcerer, who was subordinate to whom.
She rose to her feet, thowing back the white-furred splendor of her robe, and cried, "Murderer!
This fight
Of Deaths, Of Departure 11
was not condoned; you had not my let to brawl, either one. The Count is.beyond my retribution, but
I shall visit my anger twofold upon you."
Springbuck expected to hear the order go out and see deadly shafts throw back the lamplight on
their way to the Duke's heart.
But instead, Fania commanded, "Archog, slay me this man." At this Archog, the largest of the ogres
and the captain of them, drew his huge broadsword from its scabbard at his back and shuffled
forward.
Springbuck watched in horror. The match between Hightower and Synfors had been one thing, a bout
between men by challenge given and taken. The assault of Archog was something elseтАФa deliberate,
merciless executioner about to do his work. The Prince's impulse was to go to the Duke's side and
stand with him. Yet that impulse was drained, and the heir of the Ku-Mor-Mai immobilized at the