"Masquerade Cycle - 02 - Nemesis" - читать интересную книгу автора (McGough Scott)

home.

Don't underestimate him, his master's voice whispered
inside his head. What strength elves lose in age, they make up
for in skill.

He gave the old guard wide berth, circling under the
plank porch to the far side of the tree. The enormous
swamp elm, a living pillar twenty feet wide, ran straight
through the center of the house. On the trunks of their tree
houses the elves cultivated a special type of gray-green
lichen. It looked harmless, but when pressed, it exuded an
oil that made the tree too slippery to climb. Under ordinary
circumstances it was meant to keep out hostile merfolk and
large predatory snakes.

Beneath his chameleon shroud, the agent wore two
pairs of black cloth pads. One set had finger loops for his
hands, the other, large bands to fit around his knees. The
pads exuded a sticky substance developed in the evincar's
own laboratory. His master assured him it would defeat the
elves' lichen.

He sprang onto the trunk and stuck there like a wasp
on a smear of honey. He raised his right hand and knee and
heaved them upward. The pads adhered to the tree without
a wobble. Soon his head was brushing the underside of the
porch. The climbing pads worked just as well on smooth
boards, and in moments he was on the porch.

The house was stillЧas it should be, for its master was
away fighting the evincar. The target's shuttered window
betrayed a hint of foxfire within. Was she still awake?

He inserted a finger between the shutter slats. The
kidney-shaped room beyond was hewn from the living tree.
There was a bed of boughs at the far end of the room, away
from the only door. The target lay in the bed covered by a

2



Paul B.Thompson

dappled green animal skin. By the door, a carved image of
an angel held an open foxfire lamp.

The shutters were locked with a simple hook, which
easily yielded to his knife blade. They swung out, and he