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

with exhaustion. But he still had the gold. And he was still alive.
He'd just begun to celebrate those two facts with a shaky grin when a
terrifying, familiar voice shouted, "There! He's there!"
Lupus Mortiferus had crossed a bridge Skeeter hadn't even noticed.
And he had friends with him.
Big, mean, ugly-looking ones.
Skeeter swore shakily under his breath and shoved himself to his feet.
Can't possibly outrun 'em.. Hell, he could scarcely stand up. Out-talk 'em?
Convince 'em the whole scam had been a simple miscommunication? In English, he
could probably have pulled it off. But not in Latin. The language handicap
made that impossible. Wondering what Romans did with confidence men they
caught-a roar of voices from the Circus gave him a clue-Skeeter looked wildly
around for some way out of this.
What he saw was a group of horse handlers loading racing teams onto a barge
for the trip across to the Circus. The horses were between him and the group
of enraged gladiators. Skeeter didn't have many skills, but living in a yurt
of the Yakka Clan, one thing he had learned to do was ride. If it had four
legs and hooves, Skeeter could ride it.
So he ran straight toward the men hunting him and caught a glimpse of
shocked amazement on Lupus Mortiferus' face. Then he said to a surprised
animal handler, "Excuse me, but I need that," and snatched the bridle of the
nearest racehorse still on shore. He was on the animal's back in a flash. The
startled horse reared and screamed, but Skeeter had stayed with horses
ornerier than this. He slammed heels into the animal's flanks and brought its
head and forelegs down with a savage jerk on the reins. The horse got the
message: This ain't no novice rider on, my back.
Skeeter hauled the horse's head around and kicked the animal into a fast
gallop. The racing handlers yelled and cursed him, but he put distance between
himself and all his pursuers in nothing short of miraculous time. This horse
could run.
Skeeter laughed in sheer delight and leaned low over the animal's neck. The
whipping mane caught his face with a wiry sting-The muscles bunching under his
thighs rippled in perfect rhythm. He missed the iron Mongol stirrups, shaped
like the tips of Dutch wooden shoes, to which he'd grown accustomed, but he
hadn't lost his sense of balance-and he'd learned to ride bareback, just to
prove to Yesukai that he could, and hopefully to be permitted the chance at
learning to ride proper ponies with proper saddles.
Pedestrians scattered out of his way with curses and screams. He laughed
again at the horse's astonishing speed. "Must've liberated me a champion!"
It was several years overdue, but Skeeter had finally completed his manhood
ritual. Wow! Finally! My first real horse-thieving raid! Too bad no Yakka
clansmen were around to witness it and celebrate the occasion.
The Yakka khan had not permitted Skeeter to go along on such raids, fearing
his funny little bogda might be injured, which would bring bad luck. Skeeter
grinned. Never thought I'd get a chance to do this. Not bad for a kid who fell
through an unstable gate and ended up in a place nobody thought he'd survive!
He hated to give the horse up.
But riding a stolen race horse through Rome while its handlers and several
really pissed-off gladiators were chasing him was not a smart move. And
neither his Mama nor-particularly-his foster Mama had raised a fool. In fact,