"David Gemmell - Winter Warriors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

'Times are changing, Kebra. The White Wolf is being sent home with the rest of us. I doubt he has
the power to oppose Malikada.'

'A pox on Bison,' snapped Kebra. 'He's always been trouble. You remember when he and Orendo stole
that pig . . . ?' The bowman's voice faded away. 'I'm sorry, my friend, that was crass.'

Nogusta shrugged. 'Orendo took part in a rape and a murder. It saddens me that he is dead, but he
was the victim of his own actions.'

'Strange, though,' said Kebra. 'I am a fair judge of men and I would never have believed Orendo
capable of such an act.'

'Nor I. Where shall we look for Bison?' asked Nogusta, changing the subject.

Kebra shrugged. 'He was drunk when he thrashed those men. You know Bison. After a fight he'll look
for a woman. There must be two hundred whorehouses

within walking distance. I do not intend to spend the night scouring them.'

Nogusta nodded, then he gave a wide grin. 'We could try just one, though,' he said.

'For what purpose? The odds against finding him are enormous.'

Nogusta leaned forward and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. 'I was not thinking of
finding Bison,' he said. 'I was thinking of soft skin and a warm bed.'

Kebra shook his head. 'I think I'll return to the barracks. I have a warm bed there.'

Nogusta sighed. 'Bison refuses to get old, and you refuse to stay young. Truly, you white men are
a mystery to me.'

'Life would be dull without mysteries,' said Kebra.
After Nogusta had gone he ordered another flagon of wine, then made the long walk back to the
barracks. The room he shared with Nogusta and Bison was cold and empty. Bison's bed was unmade,
the blankets in a heap on the floor beside it. The Senior Cul no longer made inspections, and
without the threat of punishment Bison had reverted to slovenly behaviour.

Nogusta's bed was tidily made, but he had left a tunic upon it.

Kebra's pallet was immaculate, the blankets folded into a square, topped by the pillow, the
undersheet pulled tight, the corners overlapped with a perfect horizontal fold. Kebra moved to the
hearth and lit the fire. He had cleaned out the ash and re-laid it that morning, the kindling
placed with perfect symmetry.

Just about now Nogusta would be lying beside a fat, sweating whore. He would be, perhaps, the
twentieth man she had opened her legs for that day. Kebra

shuddered. It was a nauseating thought.