"Thieves World - Beyond The Veil" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morris Janet E)

bound away from his followers by magicЧor dead. It was also said that this
disappearance or neutralization of the Rankan state-cult's Storm God portended
the fall of the Rankan Empire.
As the unyielding hand on his arm steered him through the nearly silent crowd of
well-disciplined specials and nervous horseboys toward Critias and Grillo and
some poor dead fool who was as likely a victim of mundane greed as of anything
more interesting, Critias sighted them, touched Grille's arm, and left the
corpse, heading their way. Grillo's handsome Rankan head came up and, as his
gaze fixed on Randal and his escort, Randal tried to shake his arm free.
"Enough, Strat! Unless you want to lose every hair on your head, let me go."
"Can't have you disappearing, can we?" Straton's grip didn't ease. Strat was
Critias's partner, bound to the task force leader in some infernal degree of
relationship the intimacy of which varied. Sacred Band pairs swore to fight
together, shoulder to shoulder, to die together (if need be) while defending
some elusive overdevelopment of honor only they understood. From a core of ten
Sacred Band pairs, Tempus had created the shock troop squadron called Stepsons,
augmenting the pairs with distinguished single mercenaries from a score of
nations. Within the elite unit, differences existedЧ one could be a Stepson
without being a paired Sacred BanderЧbut all Stepsons were committed to carrying
on the nearly mythical tradition of peerless ferocity begun by the original
Sacred Band under the leadership of Abarsis, the Slaughter Priest, of which many
of the pairs had been members.
And of which, due to circumstances and politics, Randal was now considered a
member, though he was celibate by choice and nonviolent by nature, though his
"partner," one Nikodemos, had withdrawn from Tyse and the Outbridge
barracks/estate and the much-vaunted camaraderie of the Sacred Band to a western
sanctuary far, far away. Broken pairs, however, were common. Once a Sacred
Bander, always one, went the saying.
"Listen here, Straton. For appearances' sake, let me go!" Randal wished he could
do half the magic that the superstitious Stepson thought he couldЧ disappear out
of the iron grip which held him without taking Straton with him; make Straton's
hand go numbЕ something, anything short of turning himself into an animal form.
But since it was that or nothing, he forbore a shape change, wishing, not for
the first time, that the globe of power he'd earned on Wizardwall was small
enough to carry around with him or simple enough to employ that by now he'd have
mastered its use. But it wasn't either, so his threats were empty. And if they
hadn't been, Critias's taciturn right-side partner was no man to curse unless
one was cursing to kill.
"Life to you, Randal," Critias said formally as he joined them. "How are you
faring?"
"My arm hurts." Randal stared steadily into the eyes of Tempus's task force
leader and saw them crinkle with amusement.
Critias had a very cynical smile. "Strat, I think our friend can stand on his
own two feet."
Randal knew that Critias didn't like him or approve of his induction into the
Stepsons. Suddenly, his resentment faded and he realized that Critias must have
had a very good reason to send for him. But Straton was already detailing
Randal's reluctance, his voice very low and very angry. "Е had to wait in that
godless hellhole and 'state my business; to one mincing mageling after another.
Half of 'em need training bras. And when thisЕ Stepson finally deigned to give