"David Gemmell - Drenai Tales 05 - In the Realm of the Wolf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

assassin who might be hidden. But he could see no one. Carefully keeping to
cover he circled the cabin, checking for tracks and finding none, save those
made by his own moccasins and Miriel's bare feet. Satisfied
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at last, he crossed to the cabin and stepped inside. Miriel had prepared a
meal of hot oats and wild strawberries, the last of the season. She smiled as
he entered, but the smile faded as she saw the crossbow he carried.
'Where did you find that?' she asked.
'There was a man hidden near the graveside.'
'A robber?'
'I don't believe so. This bow would cost perhaps a hundred gold pieces. It is
a beautifully crafted weapon. I think he was an assassin.'
'Why would he be hunting you?'
Waylander shrugged. 'There was a time when I had a price on my head. Perhaps I
still have. Or maybe I killed his brother, or his father. Who knows? One thing
is certain, he can't tell me.'
She sat down at the long oak table, watching him. 'You are angry,' she said at
last.
'Yes. He shouldn't have got that close. I should have been dead.'
'What happened?'
'He was hidden in the undergrowth some forty paces from the graveside, waiting
for the killing shot. When I moved to get water for the roses I saw a bird fly
down to land in the tree above him, but it veered off at the last moment.'
'It could have been a fox or any sudden movement,' she pointed out. 'Birds are
skittish.'
'Yes, it could have been,' he agreed. 'But it wasn't. And if he'd had enough
confidence to try for a head shot I would now be lying beside Danyal.'
"Then we've both been lucky today,' she said.
He nodded, but did not answer, his mind still puzzling over the incident. For
ten years they had lived without his past returning to haunt him. In these
mountains he was merely the widower Dakeyras. Who, after all this time, would
send an assassin after him?
And how many more would come?
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The sun was hanging over the western peaks, a blazing copper disc of fire
casting a last, defiant glare over the mountainside. Miriel squinted against
the light.
'It's too bright,' she complained.
But his hand swept up, the wooden chopping board sailing into the sky.
Smoothly she brought the crossbow to her shoulder, her fingers pressing the
bronze trigger. The bolt leapt from the weapon, missing the arcing wood by
little more than a foot. 'I said it was too bright,' she repeated.
'Picture failure and it will happen,' he told her sternly, recovering the
wooden board.
'Let me throw it for you, then.'
'I do not need the practice - you do!'
'You couldn't hit it, could you? Admit it!'
He gazed into her sparkling eyes, and noted the sunlight glinting red upon her
hair, the bronzed skin of her shoulders. 'You ought to be married,' he said
suddenly. 'You are far too beautiful to be stuck on a mountainside with an old