"John Norman - Gor 05 - Assassin of Gor " - читать интересную книгу автора (Norman John)

the
robes of the Administrator of the City, who took it and slowly, on foot,
withdrew toward Ko-ro-ba, followed by the large blond Warrior and the small
Scribe. The ashes, Kuurus judged, since the body had been wrapped in the
scarlet
leather of a tarnsman, would be scattered from tarnback, perhaps over distant
Thassa, the sea.
Kuurus stood up and stretched. He picked up his short sword in its scabbard,
his
helmet and his shield. These he slung over his left shoulder. Then he picked
up
his spear, and stood there, against the sky, on the crest of the hill, in the
black tunic.
Those who had come to the pyre had now withdrawn slowly toward the city. Only
one man remained near the smoking wood. He wore a black robe with a stripe of
white down the front and back. Kuurus knew that it would be this man, who wore
the black, but not the full black, of the Assassin, who would deal with him.
Kuurus smiled bitterly to himself. He laughed at the stripe of white. Their
tunic, said Kuurus to himself, is as black as mine.
When the man near the smoking wood turned to face him, Kuurus descended the
hill. He was now welcome. Kuurus smiled to himself.
The man did not greet him, nor did Kuurus lift his hand to the man, palm
inward,
saying "Tal."
The man was a strange man, thought Kuurus. His head was totally devoid of
hair,
even to the lack of eyebrows. Perhaps he is some sort of Initiate, thought
Kuurus.
Without speaking the man took twenty pieces of gold, tarn disks of Ar, of
double
weight, and gave them to Kuurus, who placed them in the pockets of his belt.
The
Assassins, unlike most castes, do not carry pouches.
Kuurus looked curiously down at the remains of the pyre. Only a bit o fwood
now,
here and there, missed by the chilled wine, clung to flame; some of the logs,
however, still smoked, and the others held as though within themselves the
redness of the fire they remembered; but most were simply charred, now dead,
stained with the oil, wet from the wine.
"Justice must be done," said the man.
Kuurus said nothing, but only looked at the man. Often, though not always,
they
spoke of justice. It pleases them to speak of justice, he said to himself. And
of right. It eases them and gives them peace. There is no such thing as
justice,
said Kuurus, to himself. There is only gold and steel.
"Whom am I to kill?" asked Kuurus.
"I do not know," said the man.
Kuurus looked at him angrily. Yet he had in the pockets of his belt twenty
gold