"Feist, Raymond E - The Riftwar Legacy 02 - Krondor- The Assassins" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

"He s gone!" shouted one of the men who had been chasing him. "If he was
going to fall, he d have been out of there by now!" The boy recognized
the voice of the leader. "Head back up to the next level and spread out!
There s a bonus for whoever kills him! I want that rat dead before
morning!" 16 Limm moved upward, one hand, one foot, another hand,
another foot, by inches, slipping down an inch for every two he gained.
It was slow going and his muscles cried out for a pause, but he pressed
on. A cool whiff of air from above told him he was close to the next
level of the sewers. He prayed it was a large enough pipe to navigate,
as he had no desire to attempt another passage downward and back through
that grate.

Reaching the lip of the shaft, he paused, took a deep breath and turned,
snatching at the edge. One hand slipped on something thick and sticky,
but the other hand held firm. Never one for bathing, nevertheless he
looked forward to scrubbing this muck off and finding clean clothing.

Hanging in the silence, the boy waited. He knew it was possible that the
men who had pursued him might appear in a few moments. He listened.

Impulsive by nature, the boy had come to learn the dangers of acting
rashly in dangerous situations. Seven boys had come to Mother s, the
Mockers safe haven, at roughly the same time, within a few weeks of one
another. The other six were now dead. Two had died by accident: falling
from the rooftops. Three had been hanged as common thieves during
crack-downs by the Prince s magistrates. The last boy had died the
previous night, at the hands of the men who now sought Limm, and it was
his murder the young thief had witnessed.

The boy let his racing heart calm and his straining lungs recover. He
pulled himself up and into the large pipe, and moved off in the
darkness, a hand on the right wall. He knew he could negotiate most of
the tunnels hereabout blindfolded, but he also knew it only took one
wrong turn or missing a


17 side tunnel in passing to become completely lost. There was a central
cistern in this quarter of the city, and knowing where he was in
relationship to it provided Limm with a navigational aid as good as any
map, but only if he kept his wits about him and concentrated.

He inched along, listening to the distant sound of gurgling water,
turning his head this way and that to ensure he was hearing the sound
coming down the sewer and not a false echo bouncing off nearby stones.
While he moved blindly, he thought about the madness that had come to
the city in recent weeks.

At first it had seemed like a minor problem: a new rival gang, like
others that had shown up from time to time. Usually a visit from the
Mockers bashers, or a tip to the sheriffs men, and the problem went