"Paul S. Kemp - Erevis Cale 2 - Another Name for Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kemp Paul S)

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ItтАЩs hard to get into the Night Masks.ItтАЩs impossible to get out.

Another Name for Dawn By Paul S. Kemp

The garbage-strewn alley behind the Black Eye stank of puke and rotting
fish. Vasen wrinkled his nose, endured the odor, and stared holes into the
EyeтАЩs backdoor. It was nearly four hours past midnight. Jeldis would be coming
through in moments. The target, Nomen Thorsar, soon thereafter.

At ease in the darkness, Vasen settled deeper into the shadows beside
the innтАЩs back exit. Sel├╗ne rode full and bright in the night sky above but the
tall wooden buildings that lined the alley blotted out her light. Here, only a soft
silver glow reached down to caress the street. Vasen waited, tense. Long
seconds passed. With the waters of the Inner Harbor only a dagger toss behind
him, he could hear the waves of the Sea of Fallen Stars lapping against
WestgateтАЩs piers. The sound lulled him to lethargy.
To keep himself occupied, he ran through his Dwarven language lesson
from the day before. Vasen enjoyed both the linguistics lessons and the
after-session talks with Theevis, his teacher. Everything else that involved the
Night Masks was drudgery to him. Though the Faceless, the MaskтАЩs
guildmaster, had culled him from an orphanage and trained him up as an
assassin and translator, Vasen knew that the guild would discard him whenever
it became convenient. He owed them no gratitude, and now he wanted out. To
get out he needed coin, and he knew how to earn money only through
extortion, bribery, and assassination. The logic was inexorable and ironic. To
get out, he needed to get deeper in.From behind the innтАЩs door, the loud crash
of a broken dish gave him a start. He rebuked himself for his inattention and
refocused on the job. He could not afford to be sloppy.
The murmur of voices carried through the innтАЩs oak walls. An occasional
shout or laugh rose above the general din. The place sounded crowded.
Good , he thought. He and his crew had chosen The Eye for two reasons;
Nomen Thorsar regularly slummed here, and none of the crew had ever set foot
in the place. Their faces would not be remembered, and they would never be
back.The door flew open. Candlelight, voices, and the smell of beef stew spilled
into the alley. Out of professional habit, Vasen closed one eye to avoid entirely
losing his night-adjusted vision. A tall figure stood momentarily silhouetted in
the doorway before pushing it closed. Jeldis.
The big man walked past without slowing. Above the stink of the alley,
Vasen caught a whiff of his smell: oiled leather and stale ale. His ringmail
armor clinked as he moved. He wore a longsword at his belt.
тАЬNomen, drunk with one bodyguard,тАЭ Jeldis said. тАЬLess than a twenty
count behind me.тАЭ
тАЬGot it,тАЭ Vasen acknowledged. He and his team had trailed Nomen
Thorsar for the previous two tendays. They had learned that when slumming,
the nobleman always entered and exited via back doors. Things were going