"Janet Morris - Beyond Wizardwall" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morris Janet E)

But then, no other fighter in the Stepsons had Niko's problems: he was the only member of its core
group of Sacred Band pairs who had a wizard for a partner, a witch for an enemy, and a dream lord
after his very soul.
He hoped his mare's plight wasn't a matter of magical intervention, some reflection of the accursed luck
that had dogged him ever since he'd joined Tempus's private army. He couldn't bear it if her suffering
turned out to be his fault.
All Niko had left which mattered to him was this mare, who looked up at him from anguished,
exhausted eyes that still were trusting: she expected him to be able to save her.
Full of despair, he rubbed her muzzle, then scratched a favorite spot under her jaw. He couldn't do
much more than sit with her until she died. He couldn't help her; he couldn't even help himself.
Suddenly she shuddered and started thrashing. He tried to hold her head. She was tearing herself up
inside; the foal was in breech. The vet had told him to put her out of her misery, hopeful of saving the
foal, which was half Tr├┤s horse and worth more than its mother.
But he couldn't do it. He couldn't walk away and let someone else do it either. The remnants of
honorbond within him, reduced to that between man and horse, wouldn't allow him to sacrfice the sorrel
mare, all he had left from his life before he'd joined the Stepsons.
And he couldn't hold her, couldn't even keep her from hurting herself. He watched helplessly, his eyes

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 Morris, Janet - Beyond Wizardwall


filled with tears, as she groaned and bit herself, then sank back, exhausted, blowing hard through
distended nostrils.
He could save her, if he went crawling to the mageguild and begged his estranged partner, Randal the
Tysian wizard, to help him. He could probably make it there in time. The storm outside was winter's
last; he could take one of his commander's uncannily powerful AтАвkelonian horses and ride down across
the Nisibisi border into Tyse, find Randal, and trade the last bit of his self-esteem for the sorrel mare's
life.
Even if it didn't work, if he couldn't reach the mageguild in time, he'd be out of hereтАФhe wouldn't have
to watch her die.
The mare twitched weakly, gave a long, sighing snort, and rolled her eyes at him pleadingly. She was
soaked in sweat and so was he.
"It'll be all right," he lied to her. Her ears pricked at the sound of his voice.
Digging with trembling fingers in his beltpouch, he found his drugs and sniffed the last of his krrf. It
wasn't going to make him feel any better, he knew, but it would give him the energy to do the cowardly
thing and get the hell out of here before he broke down in tears.
As the drug seeped from his nose into his brain, he got his legs under him and pushed himself up. The
mare was watching him as he sidled toward the door, so he said, "You just rest. I'm going to get help.
I'll be right backтАж"
Outside the stall, he closed its door and leaned his forehead on it, swearing softly in gutter-Nisi.
He was still standing like that when he heard low voices and the rustle of winter uniforms coming
toward him in the quiet stable's gloom.
"We've got to do something about him," one voice said. "It's bad for morale, disciplineтАж we can't just
sit back and let him go on this way. It makes the whole unit look bad."
A deeper voice responded, "What would you suggest, Crit?"
"Either shape him up or shed him. If it were anybody else, you'd have done it long ago. He's just not
that specialтАФand if he is, that's worse. You can't have one set of rules for Niko and another for
everybody else. Even the Sacred Banders don't try to make excuses for him anymore. You've got to talk
to him."