"Eric Van Lustbader - Sunset Warrior 4 - Beneath an Opal Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lustbader Eric van)

The scarred man listens at the door. Then, as the
sounds of Kuo's descent fade, he turns his
attention to the food and for a time he is totally
consumed in the act of eating.

Sounds drift up to him, given an eerie
etherealness by the closed curtains. The cries of
the night vendors, drunken laughter, the heavy
creak of wooden-wheeled carts laden with to-
morrow's produce and dry goods, the snort of
horses, hoofs clip-cropping on the cobbles; a soft
wind rustles the leaves of the plane trees lining
nearby Yellow Tooth Street. Night.

Soft footfalls on the stairs and the scarred man
is up, wiping his greasy hands. He bends,
extinguishes the flame of the oil lamp. Silently, he
skirts the bed, opens the curtains. Dim, fitful light
from the thin corridor to the street seeps into the
room as slowly as blood drips from a corpse.

The footfalls cease.

The scarred man has positioned himself well
within the deepest shadows of the room with a
good line of sight to the door. He stands immobile,
one hand gripping the hilt of his sword as the door
opens inward to reveal an ebon silhouette.

"Mistral," comes a whispered voice.

"Who is the messenger?" says the scarred man.

"The wind."

"Enter, Omojiru," says the scarred man and the
silhouette disappears as the door is closed. There
comes the sound of a lock being secured.

"Cascaras,'' says Omojiru, "have you found it?"

The scarred man hears the tremor in the voice,
barely held in check as he watches the other in the
inconstant light. He notes the high forehead, the
flat cheekbones, the narrow thinlipped mouth, the
intelligent almond eyes and thinks, It was those
eyes which took me in. But now I know that he
would be nowhere without his father's influence. I
regret his involvement. Not because he is ruthless