"James Alan Gardner - League of Peoples 06 - Trapped" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner James Alan)

experienced bar brawlers often stuff their crotches with padding before they go to the pub; theyintend to
get into fights, so they protect the family jewels. Third, a groin attack is the only fighting maneuver a man
can block instinctively. It takes practice to cope with a punch to one's face, but every male in the world
has a built-in reflex to avoid getting kicked in the balls."

"What an education Impervia is," Myoko said admiringly.

At that moment, Impervia was educating the other two men who'd accompanied Nathan into the tavern.
One of these men learned what it felt like to have an ax kick fracture his collarbone; the other came to a
greater understanding of how a fist to the solar plexus can paralyze the nerves required for breathing. The
kicked man staggered back cursing, but the recipient of the gut punch simply dropped to the pavement
making surprised little wheezes.

Impervia's speed, skill, and strength also made an impression on the remaining seven fishermenтАФher
flying fists looked like blurs. Then again, even a snail might have struck that group as blurry: all seven had
reached the stumblebum stage of intoxication, and I think they knew it. No doubt they still felt obliged to
help their friends, but none wanted to be first into the fray.

While those at the front of the fisherman pack hesitated, I caught sight of a metallic glint somewhere to
the rear. The globe-eared Divian had pulled out a big fancy broadsword he must have had sheathed
down his back. "Blade!" I shouted. "The alien's got a sword."

"On my way," Pelinor said.

Pelinor, of course, had a sword of his own. Pelinor also had armor, though he wasn't wearing it at the
momentтАФone doesn't wander the back streets of Simka dressed up for a coronation. If, however, a
coronation spontaneously broke out, Pelinor's room on the far side of town held enough arms and armor
to equip a complete honor guard. In his decades of wandering as a knight errant (or more likely,
impounding contraband on our province's border and keeping the best for himself), our school
armsmaster had amassed an eclectic assortment of war-toys: everything from curare-tipped blow-darts
to a slightly dented Sig-Sauer P-220 autoloader... sans bullets, alas, but still quite splendid for
administering an effective pistol-whip.

Tonight, Pelinor carried a simple cutlassтАФheavy as a meat cleaver but with a lot more reach... in case
you wanted to chop pork from a distance. The pork in question (i.e., the Divian) shoved past his
 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html




comrades and prepared to thrust his sword at Impervia; but before the blade could strike home, Pelinor's
cutlass was there, slapping away the weapon with a loud metallic clank.

"A true swordsman doesn't attack an unarmed opponent," Pelinor said. "A true swordsman tests his
mettle against an evenly matched foe."

The Divian just blinked at those words, his eyelids flicking from the bottom up instead of top down.
Perhaps on his home-planet far across the galaxy, nature had never evolved the concept of "fair fight."
His species might be more at home with the "leap from the shadows, stab in the back" school of combat.
Still, the Divian collected himself with commendable speed and made a tentative stab in Pelinor's