"Shirley Meier & S. M. Stirling - Fifth Millenium 02 - Saber and Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Meier Shirley)

the Fehinnans say." She ripped more of the jug into her cup. "Just back from a
long voyage south; little profit, damnably sober and chaste, and several
shipwrecks. Seawater holds no luck for me."

"We have that in common, then. Hello, little shadow brother." Megan said,
regarding the cat. It returned her gaze and yawned, pink and white and
cavernous.

"I picked him up two seasons ago, on the western border."

The arrows had come out of the scrub oak along the mountain trail at dusk.

"We didn't do too well."

She had shot her quiver empty: the Kommanz wheel-bow hit harder than anything
east of the Great River, but none of the others were horsearchers. . . .

"I woke up with a broken arm; my horse lying across one leg."

Crusted blood on her eyelids. Yelling laughter from the tribesfolk as they
took their pick of heads and melted back into the forest.

"Ten-Knife was sitting on my chest, the next time I woke up."
The sound the wounded made, when the scavengers found them.

"Wine?" she said, raising her cup and admiring the sheen on the swirling
grain.

Megan reached over to stretch out a hand to Ten-Knife, carefully. He sniffed,
twice, then turned and inclined his head, purring as she rubbed the indicated
cheek. "I've passed his first test, it seems," she said lightly, lying back
again and letting her hair drift free in the soothing water.

Good, to feel clean again, she thought. Very good. Though there had been
plenty of water in the swamp, all of it had left her feeling greasy.

She opened her eyes to the ceiling, glass skylights and mosaics of colored
stone showing seaweed and fish, thinking that she never wanted to see grey
moss hanging over her again. It went with the smell.

They lounged in silence for minutes, comfortably. "I'm starting to wrinkle,"
Shkai'ra said. "Odd habits they have here in the southlands, soaking the whole
body in warm water. Nice, in limited amounts."

"In so warm a climate, I can ynerstun . . . understand it," Megan said.
"Fehinnans seem offended by smells. The wine smells good, but not on an empty
stomach."

She'd eaten several small meals over the day already, not wanting to gorge and
make herself sick, but was hungry again.