"Joe Haldeman - Blood Brothers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haldeman Joe)

of a long tunnel that led from his private rooms to the basement of the Lily Garden, a
respectable whore-house a few blocks from the Maze.
He climbed the long steps up from the basement and was greeted by a huge eunuch with a
heavy glaive balanced insolently over his shoulder.
"Early today, One-Thumb."
"Sometimes I like to check on the help at the Unicorn." "Surprise inspection?"
"Something like that. Is your mistress in?"
"Sleeping. You want a wench?"
"No, just business."
The eunuch inclined his head. "That's business."
"Tell her I have what she asked for, and more, if she can afford it. When she's free. If I'm
not at the Unicorn, I'll leave word as to where we can meet."
"I know what it is," the eunuch said in a singsong voice. "Instant maidenhead." One-
Thumb hefted the leather-wrapped brick. "One pinch, properly inserted, turns you into a girl
again." The eunuch rolled his eyes. "An improvement over the old method."
One-Thumb laughed along with him. "I could spare a pinch or so, if you'd care for it."
"Oh . . . not on duty." He leaned the sword against the wall and found a square of
parchment in his money belt. "I could save it for my off time, though." One-Thumb gave
him a pinch. He stared at it before folding it up. "Black . . . Garonne?"
"The best."
"You have that much of it." He didn't reach toward his weapon. One-Thumb's free hand
rested on the pommel of his rapier. "For sale, twenty grimales."
"A man with no scruples would kill you for it."
Gap-toothed smile. "I'm doubly safe with you, then."
The eunuch nodded and tucked away the krrf, then retrieved the broadsword. "Safe with
anyone not a stranger." Everyone in the Maze knew of the curse that One-Thumb
expensively maintained to protect his life: if he were killed, his murderer would never die,
but live forever in helpless agony:

Burn as the stars burn;
Burn on after they die.
Never to the peace of ashes,
Out of sight and succor
From men or gods or ghost:
To the ends of time, burn.

One-Thumb himself suspected that the spell would be effective only for as long as the
sorcerer who cast it lived, but that was immaterial. The reputation of the sorcerer, Mizraith,
as well as the severity of the spell, kept blades in sheaths and poison out of his food.
"I'll pass the message on. Many thanks."
"Better mix it with snuff, you know. Very strong." One-Thumb parted a velvet curtain
and passed through the foyer, exchanging greetings with some of the women who lounged
there in soft veils (the cut and color of the veils advertised price and, in some cases, curious
specialties), and stepped out into the waning light of end of day.
The afternoon had been an interesting array of sensations for a man whose nose was as
refined as it was large. First the banquet, with all its aromatic Twand delicacies, then the
good rare wine with a delicate tang of half-poison, then the astringent krrf sting, the rich
charnel smell of butchery, the musty sweat of the tunnel's rock walls, perfume and incense
in the foyer, and now the familiar stink of the street. As he walked through the gate into the
city proper, he could tell the wind was westering; the earthy smell from the animal pens had