"Paul Kearney - Monarchies of God 4 - The Second Empire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kearney Paul)

infested it, and hid his face in his hands. For a moment he wished only to be dead and have done with it.
Seventeen of them had left Fort Abeleius some twenty-four days before. Now he and his two
companions were all that remained. This green world was too much for mortal men to bear, unless they
were also some form of murderous travesty such as those which resided in the mountain. He shook his
head at the memory of the slaughter there. Men skinned like rabbits, torn asunder, eviscerated, their
innards churned through with the gold they had stolen. MasudiтАЩs head lying dark and glistening in the
roadway, the moonlight shining in his dead eyes.

Hawkwood hauled himself to his feet. Bardolin had his head sunk between his knees and Murad lay on
his back as still as a corpse, his awful wound laying bare the very bone of his skull.

тАЬCome. We have to get farther away. TheyтАЩll catch us else.тАЭ

тАЬThey donтАЩt want to catch us. Murad was right.тАЭ It was Bardolin. He did not raise his head, but his voice
was clear, though thick with grief.

тАЬWe donтАЩt know that,тАЭ Hawkwood snapped.
тАЬI know that.тАЭ

Murad opened his eyes. тАЬWhat did I tell you, Captain? Birds of like feather.тАЭ He chuckled hideously.
тАЬWhat dupes we poor soldiers and mariners have been, ferrying a crowd of witches and warlocks to
their masters. Precious Bardolin will not be touchedтАФnot him. TheyтАЩre sending him back to his brethren
with you as the ferryman. If anyone escaped, it was I. But then, to where have I escaped?тАЭ

He sat up, the movement starting a dark ooze of blood along his wound. The flies were already black
about it. тАЬAh yes, deliverance. The blest jungle. And we are only a few score leagues from the coast.
Give it up, Hawkwood.тАЭ He sank back with a groan and closed his eyes.

Hawkwood remained standing. тАЬMaybe youтАЩre right. Me, I have a ship stillтАФor hadтАФand IтАЩm going to
get off this God-cursed country and out to sea again. New Hebrion no less! If youтАЩve any shred of duty
left under that mire of self-pity youтАЩre wallowing in, Murad, then youтАЩll realise we have to get back home,
if only to warn them. YouтАЩre a soldier and a nobleman. You still understand the concept of duty, do you
not?тАЭ

The bloodshot eyes snapped open again. тАЬDonтАЩt presume to lecture me, Captain. What are you but the
sweeping of some Gabrionese gutter?тАЭ

Hawkwood smiled. тАЬIтАЩm a lord of the gutter now, Murad, or had you forgotten? You ennobled me
yourself, the same time you made yourself governor of all thisтАФтАЭ He swept out his arms to take in the
ancient trees, the raucous jungle about them. Bitter laughter curdled in his throat. тАЬNow get off your noble
arse. We have to find some water. Bardolin, help me, and stop mooning around like the sky has just
fallen in.тАЭ

Amazingly enough, they obeyed him.



T HEY camped that night some five miles from the mountain, by the banks of a stream. After
Hawkwood had browbeaten Bardolin into gathering firewood and bedding, he sat by Murad and
examined the noblemanтАЩs wounds. They were all gashed and scratched to some degree, but MuradтАЩs