"Ann Maxwell - Concord 2 - A Dead God Dancing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

of the storm, rocked as a gust of wind nearly blew him off the taman.
*Break! Sweet Xantha, if it gets any worseтАФsend me your drifsen.*
Then Syza appeared just in front of him. Her dark purple hood and gritscarf completely covered her
face; even her eyes were muffled. She made no sound, yet the drifsen ran quickly along the line of
laggard taman. On an impulse, LharтАЩs mind reached out to a drifsen; there was awareness, but it was as
slippery as quicksilver. The taman began to trot as the drifsen moved among them like fanged shadows.
The trot became a pace, then a lope. Lhar pulled his hood over his face and concentrated on TтАЩMero.
A choking wall of grit and small pebbles broke over them. Both riders bent low on their mounts,
coaxing greater speed. Lhar coughed repeatedly, though the air he breathed was strained through both
scarf and hood. For the taman it was worse. The protective hair in and around their nostrils was clogged
with grit. Constant snorts gave only fleeting relief. He could hear the sound of their labored breathing
even above the storm.
Lhar knew they could either stop and pray that the storm did not kill them or run and pray that the
cliffs did not kill them.
*Syza. Has the storm peaked?*
*No. We must get to shelter before it does. Soon!*
For the first time Lhar struck his taman. With the will and stamina of the desert-born, the taman
stretched into a labored gallop. The drifsen made sure that the others kept pace through the choking
purple wind and staggering changes in air pressure. An arrhythmic, blind plunge into darkness finally
ended with a jarring slide down into the shelter of an ancient gully. Somehow they had avoided the cliffs.
The taman snorted and coughed, clearing their nostrils in the quieter air of the ravine. Without urging
they walked forward, following the sinuous course of a long-dead river. Dust sifted over everything, but
the steep walls and turns of the ravine baffled the full power of the wind. The ravine deepened into a
narrow canyon, free from all but occasional shouts of wind.
Lhar lowered his hood and unwrapped his gritscarf, grimacing as the cut over his eye reopened. The
eye itself was swollen shut, but he could see well enough to guide his taman beneath an overhanging ledge
of rock When he dismounted, TтАЩMero was waiting.
тАЬWhereтАФdrifs?тАЭ said Lhar, coughing.
тАЬUp canyon. ThereтАЩs a blind spur. The drifsen will keep them there.тАЭ
тАЬGood. WhereтАФтАЭ
Lhar stopped as Syza rode in and pulled her grit-scarf off. On her face streaks of sweat-washed skin
alternated with irregular bands of dust, but most startling were the dark channels of exhaustion around her
eyes. Wordlessly she dismounted and began unpacking the lead taman. Her hands shook over the knots.
She reached for the pack bag, heaved it onto her shoulder and would have gone sprawling in the dirt had
not Lhar and TтАЩMero leaped forward to catch, her. Lhar took the pack.
тАЬTтАЩMero, send Diri to help with the taman. TheyтАЩre too tired to bite even her.тАЭ
Syza started to speak, coughed, then managed a hoarse whisper. тАЬYouтАЩll have to sponge out their
nostrils and mouths. A tiny drink.тАЭ She saw LharтАЩs blood-streaked face and swollen eye, then looked
away. тАЬYou require healing,тАЭ she said tonelessly.
тАЬAfter you rest.тАЭ
Lhar felt her surprise and her acute relief. He watched narrowly as she was half led, half carried to
the shelter of overhanging stone, and he wondered why she radiated fear at the thought of healing.
Somewhere in the Centrex files was the answer. He ran his fingers absently over the coarse fiber belt that
concealed the many fine wires of his psitran. He could assemble the psitran, contact Yarle ... and be told
again about the Privacy Code.
With a feeling of unease he turned and began removing packs from the taman. By the time he
finished, his mind was already immersed in other difficulties. A reluctant healer was the least of the
problems he faced on Tal-Lith.
The storm thrashed and groaned and spat grit over the steep canyon walls. Occasional blasts of wind
evaded the natural baffles protecting the huddled animals; the pervasive dust made breathing miserable