"Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar Legends - Honoured Enemy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

between a snort and a laugh. 'Hartraft.'
'Who?' asked Borric.
'Son of one of my squires. Dennis Hartraft. Runs a company of thugs and cut-throats called the
Marauders for Baron Moyet. He's up there.'
'What's he doing?' asked Borric. 'The name is familiar, but I don't recall any reports from him.'
'Dennis is not one for paperwork,' said Brucal. 'What he's doing is unleashing bloody murder on
the Tsurani. It's personal with him.'
'Can we get word to him about this Dark Brothers migration?'
'He's an independent. He'll come back to Moyet's camp for the winter in the next week or two. I'll
send word to the Baron to get whatever information from Dennis he can.' Then Brucal laughed.
'Though it would be fitting for him and Clan Raven to tangle if it comes to that.'
'Why?'
Brucal said, 'Too long a story to tell now. Just say there's even more history between his family
and Murad's blood-drinkers than there is between him and the Tsurani.'
'So what happens if this Hartraft and the Dark Brothers meet up?'
Brucal sighed, and wiped his nose. 'A lot of people are going to get dead.'
Borric took a step away from the map table and looked out of the pavilion's door. A light mix of
rain and snow was starting to fall. After a moment, he said, 'Maybe they'll miss each other and
Hartraft will get back to Moyet's camp.'
'Maybe,' said Brucal. 'But if that bunch from the north gets between Dennis and Moyet's camp, or
some bunch from Clan Raven moves to meet with them ...'
Brucal let the thought go unfinished. Borric knew what he thought. If that many Brothers got
between Hartraft and his base, the chances for the Kingdom soldiers returning home alive were
nearly non-existent. Borric let his mind wander for a moment, considering the cold hills of the
north and the icy winter almost upon them, then he brushed away the thoughts. There were other
fronts and other conflicts to worry about, and he couldn't help Hartraft and his men, even if he
knew where they were. Too many men had already died in this war for him to lose sleep about
another high-risk unit out behind enemy lines. Besides, maybe they'd get lucky.



file:///F|/rah/Raymond%20E.%20Feist/Feist,%20Ra...20Enemy%20(with%20Forstchen,%20William%20R).txt (2 of 140) [8/27/03 9:29:54 PM]
 file:///F|/rah/Raymond%20E.%20Feist/Feist,%20Raymond%20E%20-%2...20-%20Honoured%20Enemy%20(with%20Forstchen,%20William%20R).txt

ONE
GRIEVING
The ground was frozen.
Captain Dennis Hartraft, commander of the Marauders, was silent, staring at the shallow grave
hacked into the frozen earth. The winter had arrived fast and hard, and earlier than usual; and
after six days of light snow and freezing temperatures, the ground was now yielding only with a
grudge.
So damned cold, he thought. It was bad enough you couldn't give the men a proper funeral pyre
here, lest the smoke betray their position to the Tsurani, but being stuck behind enemy lines
meant the dead couldn't even be taken back to the garrison for cremation. Just a hole in the
ground to keep the wolves from eating them. Is this all there really is in the end, just the
darkness and the icy embrace of the grave? With his left hand - his sword hand - he absently
rubbed his right shoulder. The old wound always seemed to ache the most when snow lay on the
ground.
A priest of Sung, mumbling a prayer, walked around the perimeter of the grave, making a sign of
blessing. Dennis stood rigid, watching as some of the men also made signs to a different god -