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

Paor took Blade to his own wagon and left him there, under the politely watchful eyes of several of
Paor's clansmen.

"The women of my wagon know that you may eat meat at their fire if it is your wish," he said. "You may
also drink from the water skins that hang below the wagon. Do not drink the kaum-the fermented milk of
the she-drend. That is only for proven warriors."

"I do not think it will be long before I drink kaum and eat meat at the fire of the warriors," said Blade
with a polite smile. "I will drink the water, but I think I would rather not eat with the women."

"Is that wise, if you wish to be strong enough for your test?"

"It is wise enough. The Kargoi seem an honorable people, and their baudzi more honorable still.
Therefore I judge they will not wait until hunger makes me weak, but will test me soon. If this is so, I can
hardly fail the tests."

"You have great faith in yourself," said Paor. His eyes narrowed. "Or perhaps you have some doubts
about the strength of the Kargoi. Do not let such doubts grow, Blade. That would be unwise, and there is
no place for the unwise among warriors of the Kargoi."

"That is as it should be," said Blade. "I have no doubts about the strength of the Kargoi. Neither do I
have doubts about the strength in war of my own people, the English. Often they have fought off
opponents greatly outnumbering them. I was a principal warrior among the English. Not a chief, but the
most valued warrior of one of the great chiefs. So I do not think I will seem weak or helpless, even facing
warriors as strong and wise as the Kargoi."

Blade crawled under Paor's wagon and drank from the water skin until he was no longer thirsty. Then he
climbed into the wagon and tried to make himself comfortable inside.

He didn't succeed. The air inside the wagon was thick with a dozen different odors, each one worse than
the last. Dry rot poorly-cured leather, rancid grease, spoiled milk and still more spoiled cheese, human
sweat, and human filth-at that point Blade stopped trying to pick out the separate odors. He also felt half
a dozen different kinds of vermin that crawled, leaped, or crept about.

Ignoring the tempting smell of roasting meat, Blade climbed out of the wagon. He picked a patch of dry
grass that was reasonably free of drend-dung, lay down, and went to sleep.

He awoke in the middle of the afternoon, feeling hungry but otherwise refreshed, and strong enough to
fight three Kargoi warriors with one hand tied behind his back.

He drank some more water and looked around. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him, so he
started to explore the great camp, looking and listening as he went.

No one could mistake Blade for one of the Kargoi, not with his full head of hair, his beard, and his fairer
skin. Everyone also appeared to believe that anyone wandering around the camp, Kargoi or not, had a
right to be there. No one stopped him, and few were at all careful of what they said in his hearing. So
Blade learned a good deal that afternoon.

The Kargoi were divided into three Peoples-the Red, the Green, and the White. The Greens and the
Whites were following routes across the plain farther to the west. That was to ensure ample grazing for all