"Clayton Emery - Card Master" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

time, Byron had barely collected his wits and regained his feet. Now a
strong hand grabbed his upper arm. The wraithlike swordswoman hissed,
"Come on!"

Byron was glad to go anywhere. Stumbling, he aimed for the blackest
stretch of alley. A hot long shape jounced at his side, the giant dog. It had
been silent while fighting, he noted, but now gave a gurgled query.

What did it want or warn? Byron wondered. Then he tripped over a
sack of bones and sprawled again.

Horacio, the ancient cardsmith, forgotten with his pierced leg, shrilled.
"Stop! I want those cards!"

The swordswoman hoisted Byron uprightтАФshe was far stronger than
heтАФand dragged him down the alley. But from the corner of his eye Byron
saw a tiny flash.

He knew that sign. A magic card igniting.

Something cold and sticky clung to their faces, their hands, their legs.
Byron was trapped head to toe, stuck tight. The dog snarled, the
swordswoman hissed.

Behind them, Horacio crawled one-legged to the sailors, pounded them
with bony fists. "Get them! Or do without your pay!" The bleeding sailors
groaned as they fumbled for lost weapons.

Byron cursed as the cloying stickiness gummed his lips and tongue.
Tasting, he knew what it was: a giant artificial spiderweb. He'd seen them
before. This one bridged the alley, snarled in branches above and on stone
walls and an iron gate. The magic-trained part of his mind noted it was a
clever spellтАФnot an actual spiderweb, but something similar probably
woven from leaves or moss on the walls. You can't conjure something from
nothing, he'd heard Rayner intone a thousand times, you can only convert
one thing into another.

The swordswoman puffed as she slashed at the web, but it was more
spun glop than sticky rope. When pulled, the strands snapped into wads of
gum that coated them in lumps. Her blade would be coated like a taffy
stick, Byron knew. Even the dog was caught, though it clawed massive feet
to tug and shove in all directions.

Behind them, one sailor crawled on all fours, useless, but Ned gathered
knives in both hands, murder on his face. Horacio slapped his back. "Kill
all three and hurry!" The roaring bonfire of a house beyond the stone wall
cast a macabre light on the old man's skeletal capering.

Where were the damned bishop's guards when you needed them? Byron
wondered.