"Derek Paterson - The Kaiserine's Champion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Paterson Derek)

with the two sentries. The sight of their faces shocked me so much that I nearly recoiled in horror. They
were so scarred and mutilated that it was difficult to imagine they might be human at all. Their flesh had
been sewn together with rough stitches, and some of the pieces of skin didn't seem to match. As a result,
their bloodshot eyes were hooded, their mouths were lop-sided and their noses were shapeless lumps of
flesh with oddly-matched holes. I'd never seen anything quite so hideous, yet they seemed unaware of my
attentionтАФeither that, or they simply didn't care what I thought of their skewed features. I recalled the
scarves the highwaymen and the coach driver had worn, and guessed they must all be veterans of The
War. Evidently they'd received horrendous injuries, and equally horrendous repair surgery.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to stare?тАЭ Ludwig said, sounding more amused than irritated.
We continued along the hallway until we reached a flight of stairs. Ludwig began climbing with all the
grace of a waddling duck. For some reason I couldn't fathom, I experienced a wave of sympathy for
Thenck's servant, trapped in his tiny body.

We stepped into a laboratory. Several tables contained complex scientific apparatusтАФglass bottles
connected by winding rubber tubes, unfamiliar machinery of unknown function that whirred and clicked
and popped. A queer metallic smell filled the air but I couldn't quite place its origin. Amber light streamed
into the room through several high, narrow windows illuminating the far wall, which, oddly enough, was
fitted with sets of chains and manacles like those I'd left behind in the city gaol. The plaster was broken
and stained, suggesting that whoever had been kept here had clawed at the wall in agony. Was this a
laboratory, a prison or a torture chamber? Perhaps all three. None of what I saw placed me at ease.

A rotund, cheerfully smiling gentleman came into the room through another door. He wore a black
uniform with an officer's scarlet sash about his portly waist. The twin sawblades of the Imperial Medical
Corps adorned his collar. His pale blue eyes peered at me through the thick lenses of his spectacles. He
said, тАЬPray tell, who is this fine specimen, Ludwig?"

"Herr Thenck sent him, Doctor Schmidt,тАЭ Ludwig said. тАЬHe's from the prison.тАЭ He waved his little hand
in front of his nose. тАЬWhich explains the smell."

Schmidt came to stand before me, apparently unaffected by how I looked or smelled. He studied me
closely for a while and then, without asking permission, he prised my left eye wide open with his thumb
and forefinger. I stood silently through this odd procedure, too surprised to object.

"Please unbutton your shirt,тАЭ Schmidt said. I did so. He lifted a shuttered storm lantern from one of the
tables and opened it. Its heat burned my neck. тАЬGood, very good,тАЭ he muttered under his breath. He
closed the lantern and returned it to the table. I was about to button my shirt again when he said, тАЬYou
were wounded in The War?"

He'd noticed the scar on my chest. тАЬYes. A Moskovian musket ball."

"It penetrated the lung?"

"Yes."

"You are very fortunate to be alive. A fraction to the left and the ball would have struck your heart. Do
you have any difficulty in breathing?"

"Not now. Sometimes I have to sit down and rest after strenuous exercise, however."