"Tim Lebbon - Dusk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lebbon Tim)

He stared along the road at the figure in the distance. Yes, only one man, but a threatening pall hung
about him, like shadowy echoes of evil deeds. Kosar looked the other way, past the old stone bridge and
into the village itself. There were children playing by the stream, diving and resurfacing in triumph if
they caught a fish between their teeth. Elsewhere, drinkers sat silently stoned outside the tavern, mugs of
rotwine festering half-finished in the sun, the other half coursing through veins and inducing a few
cherished hours of catatonia. It was a false escape that he, Kosar the thief, would never be permitted
again. At least not where any form of law still applied.

The market was small today, but a few traders plied their wares and squeezed tellan coins and barter
from the village folk. Skinned furbats hung from hooks along one stall, their livers intact and ripe with
rhellim, the drug of sexual abandonment. He had already seen three people skulking away, a furbat
beneath their shirt and their eyes downcast. Their children may not eat tonight, but at least the parents
would be assured of a good screw. Another trader sold charms supposedly from Kang Kang, banking on
the fear and awe in which that place was held to make the buyers see past the trinketsтАЩ obvious falseness.
There were food sellers too, offering fruits from the Cantrass Plains. But the journey from that place was
long, the route difficult and most of the fruits had lost their lively hue.

Kosar turned once again to the stranger. He was much closer now, and the sound of his progress had
become audible in the heavy air. The figure raised his head almost imperceptibly. The cloak shifted to
allow a sliver of the falling sun inside, and Kosar squinted as he tried to make out what it revealed. His
eyesight was not as good as it had once been, scorched by decades in the sun and weakened by lack of
nourishment, but it had never misled him.

The strangerтАЩs face was as red as his cloak.

Kosar stood and shielded his eyes. His first impulse was to grab the pick heтАЩd been using, so he could
swing it up in a killing arc if necessary. His second urge was to turn and run, and this surprised him.
HeтАЩd always been a thief but never a coward. It was why he was still alive now, and it was the reason he
could live among people, even with the terrible unhealing brands on his fingers.


file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Tim%20Lebbon%20-%20Dusk.html (4 of 337)10-8-2007 12:02:26
 Dusk


He also listened to his hunches. Instinct was for survival, and Kosar followed his as much as possible.

But not this time. Instead, he crept back along the trench toward the bridge. Every step felt heavy, each
movement against good sense. Something inside shouted at him to turn and run, abandon the village to
whatever fate this red man brought with him. The place had never really done anything for Kosar.
Acceptance it had given grudgingly, but never affection, never any true sense of belonging. TheyтАЩd put
up with him because he worked for them, nothing more. HeтАЩd spent the last mid-summer festival
skulking past the stone bridge while the town cabal handed out ale and food. The revelry had jibed at
him as he watched the setting sun alone, even though the jibing was mostly his own.

Turn and run.

But he could not.