"David Gemmel - Sipstrassi Tales 03 - Bloodstone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

The stallion, with no guidance now from the man, halted. The rider had pointed him towards the south,
but that was not the home the stallion knew. For a while it stood motionless, then it started to walk,
heading east and out into the plains.
It plodded on for more than an hour, then caught the scent of wolves. Shapes moved to the right. The
stallion whinnied and reared. The weight fell from its back . . . and then it galloped away.
*
Jeremiah knelt by the sleeping man, examining the wound in the temple. He did not believe the skull to be
cracked, but there was no way of being sure. The bleeding had stopped, but massive bruising extended
up into the hairline and down across the cheekbone almost all the way to the jaw. Jeremiah gazed down
at the man's face. It was lean and angular, the eyes deep-set. The mouth was thin-lipped, yet not,
Jeremiah considered, cruel.
There was much to learn about a man by studying his face, Jeremiah knew, as if the experiences of life
were mirrored there in code. Perhaps, he thought, every act of weakness or spite, bravery or kindness,
made a tiny mark, added a line here and there, that could be read like script. Maybe this was God's way
of allowing the holy to perceive wickedness in the handsome. It was a good thought. The sick man's face
was strong, but there was little kindness there, Jeremiah decided, though equally there was no evil. Gently
he bathed the head wound, then drew back the blanket. The burns to the man's arm and shoulder were
healing well, though several blisters were still seeping pus.
Jeremiah turned his attention to the man's weapons. Revolvers made by the Hellborn, single-action
pistols. Hefting the first he drew back the hammer into the half-cock position, then flipped the release,
exposing the cylinder. Two shells had been fired. Jeremiah removed an empty cartridge case and
examined it. The weapon was not new. In the years before the Second Satan Wars the Hellborn had
produced double-action versions of the revolver, with slightly shorter barrels, and squat, rectangular
automatic pistols and rifles that were far more accurate than these pieces. Such weapons had not saved
them from annihilation. Jeremiah had seen the destruction of Babylon. The Deacon had ordered it razed,
stone by stone, until nothing remained save a flat, barren plain. The old man shivered at the memory.
The injured man groaned and opened his eyes. Jeremiah felt the coldness of fear as he gazed into them.
The eyes were the misty grey-blue of a winter sky, piercing and sharp, as if they could read his soul.
'How are you feeling?' he asked, as his heart hammered. The man blinked and tried to sit. 'Lie still, my
friend. You have been badly wounded.'
'How did I get here?' The voice was low, the words softly spoken.
'My people found you on the plains. You fell from your horse. But before that you were in a fire, and
were shot.'
The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 'I don't remember,' he said, at last.
'It happens,' said Jeremiah. The trauma from the pain of your wounds. Who are you?'
тАШI don't remem . . .'the man hesitated. 'Shannow. I am Jon Shannow.'
'An infamous name, my friend. Rest now and I will come back this evening with some food for you.'
The injured man opened his eyes and reached out, taking Jeremiah's arm. 'Who are you, friend?'
'I am Jeremiah. A Wanderer.'
The wounded man sank back to the bed. 'Go and cry in the ears of Jerusalem, Jeremiah,' he whispered,
then fell once more into a deep sleep.
Jeremiah climbed from the back of the wagon, pushing closed the wooden door. Isis had prepared a fire,
and he could see her gathering herbs by the riverside, her short, blonde hair shining like new gold in the
sunlight. He scratched at his white beard and wished he were twenty years younger. The other ten
wagons had been drawn up in a half-circle around the river-bank and three other cook-fires were now
lit. He saw Meredith kneeling by the first, slicing carrots into the pot that hung above" it.
Jeremiah strolled across the grass and hunkered down opposite the lean, young academic. 'A life under
the sun and stars agrees with you, doctor,' he said amiably. Meredith gave a shy smile, and pushed back
a lock of sandy hair that had fallen into his eyes.
'Indeed it does, Meneer Jeremiah. I feel myself growing stronger with each passing day. If more people