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

me a humping audience, he's asking me why and what for, with the gods know how
many witchy ears as big as his pressed to the damn walls. By the gods, Crit,
he'd not have his pink-and-lacy suite in the left wing of that Fun House if not
for us, and he's giving me an argumentЧor the balls to tell me he's too busy,
there's spells need casting, andЧ"
"All right, Strat. All right."
"Not all right. What do we need him for, Crit? What do we put up with him for?"
Randal didn't like the way the conversation was going, or being spoken of as if
he weren't present. And nobody argued with Critias. Even Tempus was very careful
to explain matters to the task force leaderЕ He thought he'd better try it:
"Critias, I'm sorry. You caught me at a bad time."
Straton snorted.
Critias said, "Strat, take a look at this. It's the murder weapon." He held out
a little dart in the palm of his hand.
Randal, shorter than the other two, craned his neck to get a better look.
Straton took it, held it up to the light, squinting, then put it to the tip of
his tongue.
"Straton!" Randal objected. "It's obviously poisoned."
"Not as dumb as he looks," Strat marveled. "I'll take it around to some of the
snake milkers. It's not arsenic or cyanideЧtastes too sweet. Want me to go now?"
"If you would. I'll be here until high moon, anyway. Then I'm going over to the
farm. If the Riddler's not at Brother Bomba's, he'll be there. I sent somebody
over to see if he was with Madame Bomba, but maybe you'll drop by to double
check." Though Critias answered Strat quietly, his gaze never left Randal's
face.
"Pleasure. Just answer me: What do we need him for?"
Randal felt his neck grow hot, the flush crawl up his cheeks.
"Read the dead. You can do that, can't you, Randal? Tell us what his thoughts
were? Maybe what he saw, who put him down?"
Strat grunted. Randal temporized; the big officer, about to leave, clapped a
bearlike hand on his shoulder. "Do a good job, mageling. Prove you're worth the
trouble I went through to get you here." And then Strat was gone, more quietly
and quickly than Randal would have thought he could move.
"He's not at ease with this," Critias said softly. "Neither am I. But I didn't
have to go into the mageguild, so I'm not angry. Don't pull this sort of thing
again, Randal. You're a Stepson; you come when you're called. You don't ask
questions unless they're strategic, and then not until you're given leave. Come
on."
Randal found himself trotting along beside Critias. "That's what I want to talk
to you about. I'm not at all happy with this arrangementЧ"
"Neither am I. Talk to the Riddler. Or Niko. Later. Now, you're going to read
this dead man and tell us who we're looking for." "Whom." "What?"
"Looking for whom."
Though Randal, angry himself, had been correcting Critias, the task force leader
misunderstood. "I saw his papers before he was robbed. The name on them was
Belize. Very comprehensive safe-conducts, issued in the capital. Grillo says he
hadn't heard anything about a new agent being sent up here, which is what this
man must have been. I know one when I see one; the papers just confirmed it. I
want to know if Grille's lying. Can you tell me that?"
"Perhaps." Randal squared his shoulders. They did need him. He didn't feel so