"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 25 - Torian Pearls." - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

The fourth man rode the ox with the diamond blazed on its forehead. He raised one hand in a gesture of
greeting. Blade noticed he kept the other hand very close to the hilt of his shortsword.

"Ho, wanderer. Why do you wander here, alone on the trail of the Kargoi?" As always, the alterations in
Blade's brain during his passage into this Dimension made the words reach him as plainly as English.
 "The Kargoi have left their trail on the land where I choose to walk," replied Blade. His English thoughts
left his lips as the clicking, hissing speech of the Kargoi. He'd chosen those words to give the impression
of a man who wished the Kargoi no harm but did not fear them and would not. With warriors like these
there was always a delicate balance. Be too proud, and provoke them to a pointless fight. Be too polite,
and be considered a weakling or a coward who can be killed without a second thought.

The leader's face showed no reaction to Blade's words. There was a moment of silence, broken only by
the faint sigh of the wind and the fainter dripping of the last of the rain.

Then he shifted his hand, until it actually rested on the hilt of his shortsword. It was a gesture meant to be
noticed. Blade smiled politely to show he had noticed, met the leader's eyes and held them. Except for
the smile and the fixed eyes, Blade's face was as expressionless as the warrior's.

Without saying a word, Blade wanted to send a vital message:

"You may be able to kill me, and you may not be. It does not matter to me whether you can or not, or
whether you even try. It does matter to you, for you will certainly die whether I do or not."

It was a message Blade wanted to send and keep sending until it was firmly impressed on the leader's
mind.

Few men will provoke a battle after they've been firmly assured they are certain to die in it.

The silence went on. Blade did not take his eyes off the leader, but he shifted his footing slightly. Now he
could either stand to face an attack or run to deliver one. It would depend on whether the archer loosed
his arrow, or the leader insisted on using his sword.

The silence went on for a little longer. Then the quiet, grim promise in Blade's leveled eyes and poised
body sank into the leader's mind. Slowly he moved his hand away from his sword hilt, and rested it in his
lap. Blade noticed that the movement was slightly jerky. He took his eyes off the leader, but didn't relax.

He'd met and held the man in a silent clash of wills. The man might take this gracefully, as from one
warrior to another. Or he might feel a wound to his pride that could drive him to violence more surely
than any wound in his body. It was impossible to guess, for the man's face remained expressionless. It
seemed a face that would remain expressionless even if the man were being slowly tortured to death.

Then the leader's other hand flickered in a brief signal. The archer thrust the arrow back in its quiver and
laid his bow across his lap. Blade took a deep breath, let it out, and relaxed his own stance, one arm
dangling freely and the other hand braced against one hip. He smiled again, and this time the leader
smiled back.

"It takes courage to speak harshly to warriors of the Kargoi," the man said. "It takes even more courage
to speak harshly to them without saying a word."