"Karen Haber - Thieves' Carnival" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haber Karen)

many feet, and they were getting louder, coming toward her. Five hooded heads
peered through a window of the gallery. Just as quickly, they disappeared, and a
door in the wall began to open.
Heart pounding, Mouse pivoted, pulled out the Cube, and tossed it in a long arc
down to Ciaran.
"Quick," she cried. "The Cators are back. But we can still win. Take the second
doorway out of the plaza. Find Gray Tom to record our time. Hurry!"
Rough hands grabbed her and she couldn't see Ciaran anymore. Mouse kicked the
nearest Cator full in the stomach. He dropped his hold on her, doubled over with
pain. Furiously, clawing and scratching, she fought toward freedom. But there were
too many of them, and her strength began to give out. A hard blow to her jaw drove
the last bit of fight from her. Panting, she sagged in her captors' arms.
Well, she thought, whatever they do to me now, at least I've won The Race.
The Cators' faces remained hidden behind their deep black hoods. Fiercely, they
whispered curses at her from unseen mouths. Thief, they called her. Cheat. Whore.
Right only the first time, Mouse thought. She was dragged across the balcony into a
deep stone alcove and down a steep, narrow staircase into the room of benches. In
the corner, a brazier she hadn't noticed before glowed red. Mouse's captors cast her
onto the stone slab, spread-eagled.
The stone was cold against her back. Again, she struggled, but they were stronger,
and cruel hands held her arms, her legs, her head.
Behind her, several Cators scrabbled in a cupboard. A metallic sound set Mouse's
teeth on edge, followed by a wicked hissing. In horror, she watched a hooded one
approach her holding a long metal rod. The end of the skewer formed a circle that
glowed deep red. Mouse knew what it was. A thief's brand.
"No!" she screamed. "Please!"
She tried to kick out at them. Her legs were clamped tight by remorseless fingers.
The wicked red circle grew larger, blotting out the light, the room, the world.
"Thief!" the hooded one cried. "Wear our brand!"
His face was in shadow. Mouse tried to find his eyes, to entreat mercy through
piteous glances, but the hood was deep and she had no time left.
Bright, sharp pain seared between her eyes. Mouse's ragged cry caught in her throat.
The smell of burning flesh was sickening. A high tenor voice cut through her agony.
"Brothers. A second thief is in the House of Worship!" A hooded figure stood at
the door pointing in alarm down the balcony.
"In the great hall!" he cried. "Do not delay."
The brand was withdrawn. Mouse sobbed quietly as the wound throbbed with heat.
Mouse's tormentors dropped her arms and legs and raced out the door. Weakly, she
watched as the Cator who had raised the alarm moved toward her. She managed to
glare at him in fury, but even that effort was finally too much for her. She closed her
eyes. Without a word, he lifted her off the table and flung her over his shoulder.
I don't care what else they do to me, she thought.
Then the world grew dark.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on damp stone, lit only by a glowing
panel. A hooded figure sat next to her. Mouse pulled back, gasping.
"Breathe easy," a familiar voice said. "It's only me." The hood was flung back to
reveal Ciaran's face. Mouse didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She grasped his
hand.
"Did you get the Cube back to Gray Tom?" she asked in a whisper. Ciaran