"Robert E. Howard - Conan - Rogues In The House" - читать интересную книгу автора (Howard Robert E)

"Who can delve the mind of a devil?" replied Murilo. "Our present interest
is in getting out of this place. Human weapons cannot harm a were-man.
How did you get in here?"

"Through the sewer. I reckoned on the gardens being guarded. The
sewers connect with a tunnel that lets into these pits. I thought to find some
door leading up into the house unbolted."
 "Then let us escape by the way you came!" exclaimed Murilo. "To the
devil with it! Once out of this snake-den, we'll take our chances with the
king's guardsmen and risk a flight from the city. Lead on!"

"Useless," grunted the Cimmerian. "The way to the sewers is barred. As I
entered the tunnel, an iron grille crashed down from the roof. If I had not
moved quicker than a flash of lightning, its spearheads would have pinned
me to the floor like a worm. When I tried to lift it, it wouldn't move. An
elephant couldn't shake it. Nor could anything bigger than a rabbit squirm
between the bars."

Murilo cursed, an icy hand playing up and down his spine. He might have
known Nabonidus would not leave any entrance into his house unguarded.
Had Conan not possessed the steel-spring quickness of a wild thing, that
falling portcullis would have skewered him. Doubtless his walking through
the tunnel had sprung some hidden catch that released it from the roof. As it
was, both were trapped living.

"There's but one thing to do," said Murilo, sweating profusely. "That's to
search for some other exit; doubtless they're all set with traps, but we have
no other choice."

The barbarian grunted agreement, and the companions began groping
their way at random down the corridor. Even at that moment, something
occurred to Murilo.

"How did you recognize me in this blackness?" he demanded.

"I smelled the perfume you put on your hair, when you came to my cell,"
answered Conan. "I smelled it again a while ago, when I was crouching in
the dark and preparing to rip you open."

Murilo put a lock of his black hair to his nostrils; even so the scent was
barely apparent to his civilized senses, and he realized how keen must be the
organs of the barbarian.

Instinctively his hand went to his scabbard as they groped onward, and he
cursed to find it empty. At that moment a faint glow became apparent ahead
of them, and presently they came to a sharp bend in the corridor, about
which the light filtered grayly. Together they peered around the corner, and
Murilo, leaning against his companion, felt his huge frame stiffen. The young
nobleman had also seen it -- the body of a man, half naked, lying limply in
the corridor beyond the bend, vaguely illumined by a radiance which seemed