"02 - Nemesis - Paul B Thompson 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lebaron Francis)

a reason no one will ever know, she sensed his nearness and
awoke just as the elixir touched her lips.
Her eyes opened wide. The agent dropped the vial and
feather and reached for his knife.
She must not scream.
No sound came from her slightly parted lips. She was
dead. At the exact moment the deadly potion touched her
livid lips, her life was extinguished. Her eyes, still soft
with sleep, stared sightlessly at her killer. Without a
shudder, he closed them.
His mission was only half done. He quickly set about
finding something to hide the body in. An emerald snake hide
would give him away in the dark, so he cast about for a more
suitable wrap. He found a brown homespun blanket, trade
goods from some Dal weaver, and flung aside the animal skin.
The girl's linen shift might rustle, so he stripped it off.
In death, her naked body resembled one of the evincar's
statues, her pale skin translucent in the failing foxfire.
The agent swallowed three times, trying to dislodge a
strange lump in his throat.
Noise outside-shouts and the clamor of a crowd.
Startled, he flung the blanket over the body. A gentle knock
on the door thundered through the small room.
"Avila? Are you awake?" said a female voice. "Did you
hear the cries? Your father returns! He'll be here shortly!"
The agent hurried to the window. His knife and the open
vial of death elixir were still in the girl's bed. There was
no time to retrieve them; his arms were full.
"Avila? Avila, are you all right?"
When no one answered, the woman's tread could be heard
rapidly retreating. She called, "Firanu! Firanu, come
quickly! Something's amiss with Avila!"
No time for stealth now. He burst through the shutters
onto the porch. He ran toward the high bridge platform.
Pursuers would expect him to descend to a boat, not climb
higher in the trees. As he rounded the curve of the great
tree, he came face to face with the elderly guard, no doubt
Firanu. He was armed with a barbed snake-fang spear.
"Stand where you are, or I'll kill you," the old elf
said. The agent stopped so suddenly that the blanket around
his prize slipped down, revealing his burden's lolling head.
"Avila!"
The agent leaped and kicked the spear from Firanu's
hand. Before the elderly elf could go for his knife, the
agent lowered his head and butted him squarely in the chest.
The steel skullcap he wore under his hood connected with
Firanu's breastbone. With a groan, the old retainer pitched
backward over the porch rail.
The sound of the crowd was getting louder. A woman
appeared, a matronly elf with a strong family resemblance to