"Simon R. Green - Hawk and Fisher 2 - Winner Takes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

Hawk was tall and dark, but no longer handsome. A series of old scars ran down
the right side of his face, pale against the tanned skin, and a black silk patch
covered his right eye. He wore a simple white cotton shirt and trousers, and the
traditional black cloak of the Guards. Normally he didn't bother with the cloak. It
got in the way during fights. But with so many strangers come to town for the
election, the cloak served as a badge of authority, so he wore it all the time now,
with little grace and even less style. Hawk always looked a little on the scruffy
side, and his boots in particular were old and battered, but a keen eye might have
noticed that they had once been of very superior quality and workmanship. There
were many rumors about Hawk's background, usually to do with whether or not
his parents had been married, but no one knew anything for sure. The man's past
was a mystery, and he liked it that way.

On the whole, he didn't look like much. He was lean and wiry rather than
muscular, and beginning to build a stomach. He wore his dark hair at shoulder
length, in defiance of fashion, swept back from his forehead and tied with a silver
clasp. He had only just turned thirty, but already there were thick streaks of grey
in his hair. At first glance he looked like just another bravo, past his prime and
going to seed. But few people stopped at the first glance. There was something
about Hawk, something in the scarred face and single cold eye that gave even the
drunkest hardcase pause for thought. On his right hip Hawk carried a short-
handled axe instead of a sword. He was very good with an axe. He'd had plenty of
practice, down the years.

Isobel Fisher walked at Hawk's side, echoing his pace and stance with the
naturalness of long companionship. She was tall, easily six feet in height, and her
long blond hair fell to her waist in a single thick plait, weighted at the tip with a

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polished steel ball. She was in her mid- to late-twenties, and handsome rather than
beautiful. There was a rawboned harshness to her face that contrasted strongly
with her deep blue eyes and generous mouth. Somewhere in her past something
had scoured all the human weaknesses out of her, and it showed. Like Hawk, she
wore a white cotton shirt and trousers, and the regulation black cloak. The shirt
was half unbuttoned to show a generous amount of bosom, and her shirt sleeves
were rolled up above her elbows, revealing arms corded with muscle and lined
with old scars. Her boots were battered and scuffed and looked as though they
hadn't been cleaned in years. Fisher wore a sword on her left hip, and her hand
rested comfortably on the pommel.

Hawk and Fisher were known throughout Haven. Firstly, they were honest, which
was in itself enough to mark them as unusual amongst Haven's overworked and
underpaid Guards. And secondly, they kept the peace; whatever it took. Hawk and
Fisher brought in the bad guys, dead or alive. Mostly dead.

People tended to be very law-abiding while Hawk and Fisher were around.