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

spectacular head injury was one of the ugliest Hawkwood had ever seen. The scalp had been ripped free
of the skull and hung flapping by his left ear.

тАЬIтАЩve a good sailmakerтАЩs needle in my pouch, and some thread,тАЭ he told Murad. тАЬIt may not turn out too
pretty, but I reckon I can get you battened down again. ItтАЩll smart some, of course.тАЭ

тАЬNo doubt,тАЭ the nobleman drawled in something approaching his old manner. тАЬGet on with it while
thereтАЩs still light.тАЭ

тАЬThere are maggots in the flesh. IтАЩll clear them out first.тАЭ

тАЬNo! Let them be. IтАЩve seen men worse cut up than this whose flesh went rotten for the lack of a few
good maggots. Sew them in there, Hawkwood. TheyтАЩll eat the dead meat.тАЭ

тАЬGod almighty, Murad!тАЭ

тАЬDo it. Since you are determined that we are to survive, we may as well go through the motions. Where
is that cursed wizard? Maybe he could make himself useful and magick up a bandage.тАЭ

Bardolin appeared out of the gloom, a bundle of firewood in his arms. тАЬHe killed my familiar,тАЭ he said.
тАЬThe Dweomer in me is crippled. He killed my familiar, Hawkwood.тАЭ
тАЬWho did?тАЭ

тАЬAruan. Their leader.тАЭ He dropped his burden as though it burnt. His eyes were as dead as dry slate. тАЬI
will have a look, though, if you like. I may be able to do something.тАЭ

тАЬStay away from me!тАЭ Murad shouted, shrinking from the mage. тАЬYou murderous dastard. If I were fit
for it IтАЩd break your skull. You were in league with them from the first.тАЭ

тАЬJust see if you can get a fire going, Bardolin,тАЭ Hawkwood said wearily. тАЬIтАЩll patch him up myself. Later,
we must talk.тАЭ

The pop of the needle going through MuradтАЩs skin and cartilage was loud enough to make Hawkwood
wince, but the nobleman never uttered a sound under the brutal surgery, only quivered sometimes like a
horse trying to rid itself of a bothersome fly. By the time the mariner was done the daylight was about to
disappear, and BardolinтАЩs fire was a mote of yellow brightness on the black jungle floor. Hawkwood
surveyed his handiwork critically.

тАЬYouтАЩre no prettier than you were, thatтАЩs certain,тАЭ he said at last.

Murad flashed his deathтАЩs-head grin. The thread crawled along his temple like a line of marching ants,
and under the skin the maggots could be seen squirming.

They drank water from the stream and lay on the brush that Bardolin had gathered to serve as beds while
around them the darkness became absolute. The insects fed off them without respite, but they were too
weary to care and their stomachs were closed. It was Hawkwood who pinched himself awake.

тАЬDid they really let us go, you think? Or are they waiting for nightfall to spring on us?тАЭ

тАЬThey could have sprung on us fifty times before now,тАЭ Murad said quietly. тАЬWe have not exactly been