"Andre Norton - Brother To Shadows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

had another identity and one of those places was this narrow windowless closet of a
room, the only light in which came from utilitarian wrought iron lanterns supported on
brackets on either sidewall.
The furnishings were meager, a single seat cushion and the knee-high table before it,
which was bare, but the surface of which was thickly marked with scratches and small
pits as if someone had driven a knife point into it many times over.

His arm was held out from his body as he came and on the fore of it was perched a
farflyer, huddled a little together as it clung so, as if it were indeed close to the end of its
wing strength. As Zarn seated himself on the cushion he held out his arm and the creature
gave a hop which placed it on the desktop, as it did so adding a new series of claw
scratches to those of innumerable times before.

It seemed disposed to make no other move until the man's hands went out, clasped firmly
about the feathered body, turning it about so that it faced him. Then the fingers of one
hand swept up, jerking high the head, elevating that so that he could stare into its
unblinking eyes. Time passed.

Once, twice, Zarn nodded as if he were assenting to some speech totally inaudible in that
cramped chamber. Then he relaxed a fraction and out of his purse pouch he brought a
pellet of dull green. He gave it a sharp squeeze between thumb and forefinger and then
discarded it before the messenger, whose released head made a quick peck at the
delicacy.

Once that was done and the reward received, Zarn sat very still, looking at the opposite
wall as if he were searching there for some map or message which was of importance. At
length he nodded for the third time and there was a small quirk of the lips, a flash which
was gone hardly before it could be sighted. Once more he offered his wrist and the bird
hopped to that perch. Then he went to the far wall, pressed the fingers of his left hand in a
complicated pattern and a door slid back to allow him into the very prosaic counting
house which he had leased for use during his exile here.

Warning had been given; he would set into motion the proper answer within the hour and
he expected no ill results from his decided-upon plan. His weapon he had already
selected and it would carry out his will as well as if it were his own hand wielding the
silent steel or the choke of scarf-rope.

The storm which had imprisoned Jofre for two days in the ruins blew away during the
second night and sun for the first time broke through those curtaining clouds. He was on
the move at once. At this time of year such a respite must be made use of as quickly as
possible. And some of the wind had moved drifts well enough for him to find the pass
road.

He climbed steadily. It was not a road which would have suited a caravan of traders or
any lowlander but to one from the Lairs it was as plain as that lower highway. Luck
favored him in that there had been no slides here and the way was open, though he used
the staff to sound the path ahead through any drift which did show.
The wind hit as he entered the pass and he clung to one wall of the cliff which formed it,
moving crabwise at times lest some particularly forceful blast bowl him down. His inner
strength was pushed near to the limit but the knowledge that once through this slit he