"Mercedes Lackey - Jihad" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

Jihad


Pain was a curtain between Lawrence and the world; pain was his world, there
was nothing else that mattered. "Take him out of here, you fools! You've
spoiled him!" Lawrence heard Bey Nahi's exclamation of disgust dimly; and it
took his pain-shattered mind a moment to translate it from Turkish to
English.

Spoiled him; as if he was a piece of meat. Well, now he was something less
than that.

He could not reply; he could only retch and sob for mercy. There was no part
of him that was not in excruciating pain.

Pain. All his life, since he had been a boy, pain had been his secret terror
and obsession. Now he was drugged with it, a too-great force against which he
could not retain even a shred of dignity.

As he groveled and wept, conversation continued on above his head. There were
remonstrations on the part of the soldiers, but the Bey was adamantтАФand angry.
Most of the words were lost in the pain, but he caught the sense of a few.
"Take him outтАФ" and "Leave him for the jackals."

So, the Bey was not to keep him until he healed. Odd. After Nahi's pawing and
fondling, and swearing of desire, Lawrence would have thoughtтАФ

"You stay." That, petulantly, to the corporal, the youngest and best-looking
of the lot. Coincidentally, he was the one who had been the chiefest and most
inventive of the torturers. He had certainly been the one that had enjoyed his
role the most. "Take that out," the Bey told the others. Lawrence assumed that
Nahi meant him.

If he had been capable of appreciating anything, he would have appreciated
thatтАФthe man who had wrought the worst on his flesh, should take his place in
the Bey's bed.

The remaining two soldiers seized him by the arms. Waves of pain rolled up his
spine and into his brain, where they crashed together, obliterating thought.
He couldn't stand up; he couldn't even get his feet under him. His own limbs
no longer obeyed him.

They dragged him outside; the cold air on his burning flesh made him cry out
again, but this time no one laughed or struck him. Once outside, his captors
were a little gentler with him; they draped his arms over their shoulders, and
half-carried him, letting him rest most of his weight on them. The nightmarish
journey seemed to last a lifetime, yet it was only to the edge of the town.

Deraa. The edge of Deraa. The edge of the universe. He noted, foggily, that he
did not recognize the street or the buildings as they passed; they must have