"Paul McAuley - The Book of Confluence 01 - Child of the River" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

nerve traveled over the bone. Urthank's fingers opened in
reflex and his knife fluttered away through the water. He
dove for it without thinking, and the Constable bore down on
him with all his weight, enduring increasingly feeble blows to
his chest and belly and legs. It took a long time, but at last
he let go and Urthank's body floated free, facedown in the
glowing water.
"You were the strongest of my sons, " the Constable said
when he had his breath back. "You were faithful after your
fashion, but you never had a good thought in your head. If
you had killed me and taken my wives, someone else would
have killed you in a year."
Unthank paddled the skiff over and helped his father clamber
into the well, The white boat was a dozen oar-lengths




file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/McAuley,%20Paul%20J%20-%20Confluence1%20Child%20of%20the%20River.txt (20 of 508)10-12-2006 21:55:16
file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/McAuley,%20Paul%20J%20-%20Confluence1%20Child%20of%20the%20River.txt

off, glimmering against the dark. The skinny trader whose
tongue the Constable had cut out lay facedown in the
bilgewater, drowned in his own blood. His partner was gone.
Unthank shrugged, and said that the man had slipped over
the side.
"You should have brought him back. He was bound hand
and foot. A big boy like you should have had no trouble."
Unthank returned the Constable's gaze and said simply, "I
was watching your victory, father."
"No, you're not ready yet, are you? You're waiting for
the right moment. You're a subtle one, Unthank. Not like
your brother."
"He won't have got far. The prisoner, I mean.'
"Did you kill him?"
"Probably drowned by now. Like you said, he was bound
hand and foot."
"Help me with your brother."
Together, father and son hauled Urthank's body into the
skiff. The milky glow was fading out of the water. After the
Constable had settled Urthank's body, he turned and saw that
the white boat had vanished. The skiff was alone on the wide
dark river, beneath the black sky and the smudged red whorl
of the Eye of the Preservers. Under the arm of the tiller, on
the leather pad of the button cushion, the baby grabbed at
black air with pale starfish hands, chuckling at unguessable
thoughts.
THE ANCHORITE.