"Linda Evans - Time Scout 2 - Wages of Sin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

the proprietor duly placed it in front of him, then collected the coins
Skeeter produced from his "winnings." One bite and he knew that, good as this
was, Ianira Cassondra's were so much superior it was like comparing caviar to
potted meat. As he munched contentedly, a roar went up inside the stadium.
"First race, huh?" Skeeter asked conversationally, proud of his acquired
Latin.
The man looked startled. "Race? You hadn't heard? The Emperor requested a
special opening to the day's games."
Paying only half attention, Skeeter said, "Really?" He was hungrier than
he'd thought and this cheesecake wasn't bad, washed down with the last of his
wine.
"Yes," the shopkeeper told him, considerable surprise running through dark
eyes. "A special exhibition bout by the Emperor's favorite gladiator."
"What?" He nearly strangled on cheesecake and ovine.
"Yes. Bout to first blood in honor of Lupus Mortiferus' hundredth
appearance in the arena." The man chuckled. "What a champion. Haven't been
better'n one to four odds on him since his eightieth victory. Bout ought to be
finished any minute-"
Skeeter didn't wait to hear more. He didn't have a hundred-fifty aurii to
pay off that idiotic bet. Damn, damn, damn! He shot out of the shop, leaving
the half-eaten cheesecake behind. He headed down the long facade of the
Circus, toward town. The River Tiber ran its merry way somewhere behind him.
He kept his pace at a fast walk, not wanting to draw attention to himself by
running. As much money as he was carrying, someone might mistake him for a
thief.
Okay, Skeeter, just stay calm. You've been in worse spots. He's not going
to come collecting that money right away, even if the bout is going on right
now. Just get back to the Time Tours Inn and hide out until the gate cycles
and you'll be just fine. You've gotten through worse. Lots worse.
Another roar broke from the high tiers of seats. Skeeter winced. Then
silence fell over the great arena. Skeeter wanted to break into a run, but
held himself to a brisk walk, like some businessman intent on important
business.
Then, the sound of nightmare: "Hey! Hey, odds maker!"
He glanced around-and felt his cheeks go cold.
It was the lean, grizzled Roman who'd placed the bet, about a hundred yards
behind him. Even from here, Skeeter could see the blood spattered on his
clothes and arms.
Oh, man, I gotta bad feeling that IS Lupus Mortiferus.
Skeeter did the only logical, honorable thing he could.
He ran like hell.
"Stop! Stop, you-"
The rest of it was Latin Skeeter hadn't learned yet.
He ducked around the first corner he came to and picked up speed. The money
pouches at his belt swung and bruise thighs with every stride. The streets
near the Circus were a maze of narrow alleys and crooked, twisting
passageways. Skeeter dodged and ran with everything in him, convinced he could
outrun the heavier Roman with ease. Given his skill at vanishing in the places
he'd lived as a child, losing himself in Rome ought to be a piece of cake.
But his pursuer was faster than he looked.