"Jane M. Lindskold - A Touch of Poison" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lindskold Jane)

Another of the shadowy figures, the one who stood closest to the window, spoke for the first time.

"In fact, we would insist."
Adalia wondered why she wasn't more terrified. By now she was certain that she was awake and that
her visitors were as real as the lumpy mattress on which she lay. She caught the tang of male sweat from
the man nearest to her.

Those black outfits, complete with gloves, caps, and soft-soled boots, must be smotheringly hot.

"And what if I'm not interested?" she asked, surprised at her own pertness.

"You'll be interested," the first interrogator replied. "I promise."

That was when Adalia had started feeling afraid.

"Your master, the Supreme Affluent," the interrogator continued, "has made enemies, enemies who want
him dead."

"He has been a good master to me," Adalia protested. "He gave shelter to me and to my son after my
husband died in last autumn's fever. I have prospered in his service."

"That is precisely why we are interested in you. You are a trusted servant. He regularly eats the work of
your hands without question. All you need to do is include another ingredient to your bakingтАФa touch of
poison."

Adalia bristled. She sat up in bed to glower down at the shadowy figure.

"I am not an assassin!"

"Of course not, lady," came the hissing laugh. "We are the assassins. You are merely the tool we turn to
our use."

All their converse to this point had been in whispers, but Adalia's voice now rose to normal speaking
tones.

"Find yourself another tool!"

At the sound of this mother's voice, her infant son began to fuss.

The third of the shadowy figures stooped and lifted baby Jori from his carved wood cradle. Something in
the assassin's lithe grace and competent handling of the infant made Adalia start. Surely this one was a
woman!

When the assassin spoke, Adalia's guess was confirmed.

"Tool," the assassin said in a throaty whisper, "we have you as firmly in hand as I now hold your son. He
will be well as long as you do our bidding. If not, I fear my grip couldтАж"

She bobbled the drowsy child.