"Daley, Brian - Coramonde 01 - The Doomfarers of Coramande UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Daley Brian)

The Prince considered this. He had nowhere else to go. But to stay here was to court capture or death. They Хwere both the same for him, he realized.
"I say," he replied at last, "that your people had better not use their barbed arrows. Use the narrowest points first; they'll punch through armor more readily. How will so few resist troops of the Crown?"
"I'm at a loss to tell you. But you seem familiar with
Of Deaths, Of Departure
41
this sort of thing. Come, hold conference with us, and we'll decide."
Springbuck dismounted and lead Fireheel toward the wagon as the locals gave way before him. Van Duyn* jumped down from his place and two others detached themselves from the scurrying peasants to join him.
The first with the scholar was a man far shorter and bulkier than he, and the Prince knew him as Andre de-Courteney. The famous wizard was squat and plump, with a promise of underlying muscle, and dressed, as was Van Duyn, in commoner's clothing, but had his sleeves rolled up and tunic open to reveal thick-matted hair in dark rings on arms and chest. Although he was clean-shaven, his chin and flopping jowls retained deep blue shadows. His head, however, was mostly bald. In his eyes the Prince could see only a friendly look to second the smile he wore.
The other one was even more easily identified, if only from reputation. She was an intimidating beauty of no certain age, with astoundingly red hair. Her brows were high-arched over sea-green eyes, prominent cheekbones and a wide, sultry mouth, contrary to the pouty vogue current at Court. Her skin held the whiteness of milk and, unlike those around her, she dressed self-indulgently. Gracefully wrapped in a long robe of glossy green-black silk that left much pale throat and bosom exposed, she wore a girdle of red leather sewn with pearls caught tightly around her waist, and her fingers blazed with rings. She met the Prince's gaze squarely, looking him up and down, smiling a cryptic smile, and tie knew that this could be no one but Andre's sister, the celebrated sorceress Gabrielle deCourteney, though she'd never been to his father's Court.
Van Duyn ahemmed, and Springbuck realized that he'd been staring.
"You have no doubt heard of my esteemed colleague, Andre deCourteney and, of course^ his sister, Gabrielle," Van Duyn introduced them. But his hand reached out to squeeze the woman's gently and received answering pressure, eloquent that she was far more to the scholar than .merely his associate's sister. He finished, "And I am Van Duyn. You areЧ?"
42
THE DOOMFARERS OF CORA MONDE
"How far away are the troops?" Springbuck asked, ignoring the invitation to introduce himself. For now, he preferred the anonymity of his mask.
Andre deCourteney shrugged. "We have the word ofЧinformantsЧthat they will be here momentarily."
"I would not much care to defend this relic against regular soldiery," said the Prince.
"Nor do we," Andre confessed, "but we hope that it will not come to that. The truth of the matter is that we must come at bay for a little time; we have weightier problems than a few soldiers." His speech was cultured and well modulated, in contrast to his unpolished appearance.
Х "Few!" snorted the Prince, "What if they Хsend more than a few? What if they use their heads and send infantry, cavalry, knights and archers and siege artificers to pull this stone artifact down around your ears? And if you're really ill-fortuned and they have magicians of their own with them, Yardiff Bey's underlings? They'd make very short work of you indeed, is what would happen."
"That would seem to be the promised scenario," Andre conceded mildly.
A shout broke their conversation. They went to the open gate and saw a long column of mounted men wending their way from the edge of the forest into Erub. A smaller contingent had broken off and was steering for the castle.
"Time to close up shop," said Van Duyn. Springbuck, standing near, put his shoulder'to the gate and heaved, but couldn't budge it. Then portly Andre was next to him, and the balky gate moved smartly at the wizard's push. Springbuck noted to himself that there must be muscle to spare under all that avoirdupois.
"What about the portcullis and drawbridge?" the Prince asked as two men lifted a thick beam of wood braced with iron across the gates.
"Rusted into place," replied Van Duyn, "but for now I suggest that we repair to the rampart. Heralds are due, I think."
Springbuck followed the outlander and the deCourte-neys up the stone steps, arriving just as a truce-f
Of Deaths, Of Departure
43
bearer and a herald rode up before the castle to parley. Another group sat their horses in the meadow out of bowshot.
"Fetch me my rifle," Van Duyn instructed a youngster who had been on watch there, and Springbuck puzzled over just what thing that might be. , The two soldiers wore long mail hauberks and steel caps and had triangular shields slung beside them. The truce flag was a white rectangle of cloth on a lance decked with heron feathers.
"Now heed us, the castle," roared the herald. "For crimes both treasonous and seditious, all who are within merit the death penalty. Clemency will be shown only to those who quit these premises and surrender to the duly authorized representatives of His Grace, Strongblade, by right of ascension imminent the Protector Suzerain of this place."
"Strongblade," the Prince repeated to himself, hand hard and resolute on Bar. Bey hadn't lost any time having his puppet proclaimed rightful Heir.
Now Gabrielle had passed her brother a scabbarded sword of ancient design and Van Duyn held the exotic implement he'd sent for, a "rifle." It was a curious club-like affair of wood and metal, longer than a man's arm.
The scholar leaned out over the merlin's lip and spoke back. His teeth were showing, but it was no smile. "Tell your commander and your counterfeit Ku-Mor-Mai that we don't surrender ourselves to usurpers or their ass-kissing messengers."
"I wonder what's happened in Earthfast?" Andre was saying, one cogitative ringer at his thick lips.
"Чand if you've seen what I did to your friends in Erub," Van Duyn continued, apparently with huge enjoyment, "you'll know enough to stay well away from our walls. Or would you like a taste of this?"
He brought his rifle to his shoulder, sighting down it, Springbuck thought, rather as one would squint down an arrow to gauge its trueness. There came an explosion.
A spit of flame and smoke shot from the armament's end and a clot of dirt leaped between the feet of the herald's horse. The air was filled with the same smell
44
THE DOOMFARERS OF CORAMONDE
that the Prince had noticed lingering in the air in Erub, and the horses threatened to go mad, eyes rolling white and ears flattening to their skulls in terror as they screamed in fear.
Springbuck staggered back with a yell of alarm at this, ears ringing from the blast. The outlander was calmly lowering his weapon, watching herald and standard-bearer withdraw in disarray.
A small capsule of metal had been flung from some hidden opening in the rifle and now lay smoking at his feet. Springbuck picked it up, juggling it to keep from burning his fingers, and found that it exuded that peculiar odor. He thought about the tongue of flame and about the curious wound-holes in the dead cavalrymen in Erub.
"Who were the two who remained at a distance with the other troops, those in bright clothing?" Van Duyn was asking.
The sorceress answered, perfect brow wrinkled for an instant in thought. "Creatures of Yardiff Bey. He in the golden full-helmet is Ibn-al-Yed, Bey's right arm. The other, I believe, is Neezolo Peeno, known as a premier druid. It would seem that, while he cannot do us the honor of attending our demise in person, Bey sends his closest vassals to do so." Amazingly, she chuckled. Seeing Andre's face afflicted Х with doubt and concern, she stopped her low laugh and asked, "Why so glum, brother dear?"
"What about the soldiers?" Springbuck interrupted. She turned her mocking gaze to him. "What about them? Here you are, dressed and plumed for war and wearing a sword. Have you no suggestions?"
She slipped her arm possessively through Van Duyn's and waited.
Springbuck's ire rose. Spotting the youngster who'd fetched Van Duyn's rifle, he said, "Find yourself four more men and begin making forked poles to push scaling ladders away from the walls. Make them at least fifteen feet long."
The boy looked from the Prince to Van Duyn and the deCourteneys. At length Andre cleared his throat
Oj Deaths, Of Departure
45
and said, "Do as he tells you, Byree. His idea makes sense."