"Silistra - 02 - The Golden Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morris Janet E)

and ride northeast, into the Sabembes, to Arlet. There I would see for myself
what had occurred, whose blood had been spilled in my name. I would find Sereth
and do what was needed. And DeIlin, whom I once loved. Then I would go to
Astria, and take up the Keepнress-ship once more. I would need, I reminded
myself, my chald, which lay in ChayinТs saddlepack under his head. I would be
once more chalded and free.
I lay a long while considering my stroke. While I pondered, Chayin groaned in
his sleep and turned, to lie on his stomach. The ShaperТs cloak, still fastened
about his neck, was drawn tight around him. The spiral glittered upon it. Where
the stones were thin, upon the western arm, would I strike. Between his ribs,
into his heart would I thrust the recurved steel.
Stealthily, holding my breath, I rolled from his side and crawled to the sword
belt he had so casuнally thrown upon the mat. Did he think that beнcause I was
crell and chaldless, I was bereft of will? Soundless, the blade slid from its
sheath. The hilt was welcome in my hand. The blade was heavy, but of good
balance. It was intricately chased, the hilt inlaid with titrium and gold. It
was a cahndorТs weapon. By it would a cahndor die.
On my knees I crawled back to him, the blade held between my breasts. I crouched
above him, not daring to breathe. My arms trembled. I had never killed a man
before. This man, I reminded myself, badly needed killing. Both hands upon the
hilt, I raised the blade above my head, and brought it down, my whole body
behind my thrust. Beнtween two jewels of the spiral, I aimed the point, and
followed it down with all my weight and all my force.
When the blade struck the ShaperТs cloak, drawn tight around Chayin in his
sleep, it shattered like ice. He was upon me; his hands imprisoned my wrists. He
forced the jagged-bladed hilt from my grasp. Breathing hard, one knee at either
side of my head, the shattered hilt now in his one hand, both my wrists crushed
together in his other, he leaned close to me. His pupils were tiny points in his
dark eyes, his lips mucus-sticky, his face beaded with sweat. His breath had the
smell of fear about it.
УCrells do not raise arms to their cahndor,Ф he rasped. УThis act of yours begs
discipline. Shall I cut you here?Ф He brought the jagged hilt to my face, ran
the edge across my cheek. His knees, upon my hair at either side of my head,
gripped tightly. I could not turn my face. I struggled to free my wrists, but in
one hand he held them, easily. His grip upon them tightened until СI thought
surely the bones would snap. I met his eyes, defiant. Chance had defeated me,
ill luck attended my bid for freedom. It was not by his skill that he had
triumphed.
УKill me now, Chayin У I suggested, Уbefore I have another chance. It was the
ShaperТs cloak that saved you. My next attempt will surely prove successful.Ф
He laughed, and ran the broken blade down my throat, across my breasts. Burning
moistness folнlowed its passage. I wished he would strike and be done with me.
УChayin .,Ф The voice was low and calm. It came, from the direction of the,
appreiТs entrance. The cahndor turned his head, grunted, threw the hilt aside.
He dragged me to my feet, twisting my arms cruelly. Leaning against the apprei
wall was a. figure. Next to it the unlaced flap blew in the first evening
breeze. It was Raet. There was no mistaking that bronze glowing skin, that
shimmer that surrounds a MiТysten. I shuddered. Chayin forced me down on my
knees, facing the intruder. His free hand jerked my head back. I saw once more
the figure by the door, and it was Had who stood there, his arms folded across