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

Deposit one nobleman; collect one bag of coins. Vasen didnтАЩt know the names
of the people who had paid, and he didnтАЩt want to know. Now heavier by three
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hundred platinum pieces, he stalked through WestgateтАЩs alleys. He would make
a fifty platinum piece detour to his private apartment in the River Quarter, then
go to the rendezvous at the flat. HeтАЩd be even more late, but there was nothing
for it.
After clearing the alleys, he walked south down Trayben Street. Light
spells cast on glass globes lined the flagged avenue and lit his way. Though
WestgateтАЩs shops were all closed, the noise from the cityтАЩs many taverns and
eateries still gave the streets in this part of town a lively buzz. Westgate never
slept, not even in the small hours before dawn.
With the bag of coins surreptitiously tucked under his cloak, he made for
the River Bridge. He walked across without a pause.
Immediately to his left stood The Black Boot Inn, torchlit and still loud.
Vasen kept a small room around back, a room no one but himself and Hesper
the Innkeep knew about. He ducked down the side street beside The Boot, hid
in the shadows, and scanned the street behind. He wanted to ensure that no
one had followed him. At his back, the wooden wall of the inn vibrated with the
sounds of voices and clanking dishes. He focused his attention back out on
Trayben street.
Several moments passed and he saw no one. The streets were empty.
Reassured, he climbed a wooden fence, circled the BootтАЩs stables тАУ they stank
of manure and old hay тАУ and came to the small outbuilding that served as his
room. A former storehouse, it had been built right off the innтАЩs kitchens.
When he opened the door he immediately sensed the intruder, heard the
soft intake of breath, felt the alien presence in the room. He froze for an instant
too long. Before he could pull his longsword free a shoulder slammed into his
chest and knocked him into the wall. A punch to the side of the head set off a
spark shower behind his eyes. The attacker maneuvered behind him, gripped
him in a chokehold, and began to squeeze.
тАЬSorry,тАЭ the man leaned his head forward to say. A young manтАЩs voice,
and a young manтАЩs mistake.
Vasen threw his own head back and slammed the crown of his skull into
the bridge of the manтАЩs nose. It broke with a wet crunch. Warm blood sprayed
the back of VasenтАЩs neck. The man grunted in pain, reflexively released his
hold on VasenтАЩs throat. Vasen whirled around, swinging a wild elbow as he did.
It landed flush against the manтАЩs temple. The man тАУ the boy, Vasen corrected,
for he saw that the would-be assassin was younger than he by at least three
years тАУ hit the floor flat on his stomach. Vasen grabbed a handful of hair,
jerked the boyтАЩs head back, and held a dagger at his throat.
тАЬDonтАЩt,тАЭ the boy said through clenched teeth. тАЬPlease.тАЭ
Vasen didnтАЩt. He wanted to know what in the Hells was going on, though
he had already begun to suspect.
He released the boyтАЩs head but kept the dagger at his throat. Blood ran
unabated from the assassinтАЩs nose, pooled on the floor.
тАЬIтАЩm listening,тАЭ Vasen said. тАЬTell me what I want to hear.тАЭ
The boy took a deep breath before he finally spat the information. тАЬJeldis