"Steve Perry - Matador 6 - Black Steel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

just waited until Sleel passed and skewered him from behind. The swordswoman couldn't miss seeing
the spetsdods, and yet she was willing to go up against them with nothing more than what was
essentially a real long knife, its use limited to arm's-length range. She had to have a reason to believe she
had a chance of making it. What?

Sleel took it all in as he stopped and stood, waiting.

The assassin started to move toward Sleel. She managed half a step before Sleel snapped up his left hand
and fired his spetsdod. The little back-of-the-hand dartgun gave a dry cough and spat a missile loaded
with shocktox. The tiny dart hit the swordplayer on the forehead directly above the bridge of her nose.
Right between the eyes.

So much for that.

The swordplayer blinked but kept coming.

Sleel frowned.

The bodyguard fired thrice more, one dart for each of the assassin's hands, one for the tattoo.

Nothing. The woman kept coming. She was almost close enough to swing the sword. She was laughing
soundlessly now.

Well, shit! Should have gone for the eyes

Sleel dodged, letting his body flow into the Ninety-seven Steps, his feet describing the last dance of
Bamboo Pond, his hand lifting for the natural flow into Arc of Air, reacting with the proper patterns to
the shape of the attack. It was almost a reflex after so many years of practice.

The assassin twisted, altered her cut, and tried to follow Sleel. She was pretty good with that blade. Sleel
ducked as the sword slashed the air over his head. The matador skipped into Neon Chain, and drove his
fist into the woman's left kidney with more force than he'd intended. Fear did that to a man, and anger at
being made afraid added power to the strike.

The swordswoman staggered, and Sleel finished the dance by shifting to Helicopter, spinning and
hammering the woman's temple with the edge of his knotted hand.

The assassin fell, the sword clattering onto the plastcrete. The blade rang like metal when it hit.

A man yelled something hoarsely, and a woman cursed.

Sleel spun, looking for more attackers. There were none.



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He came up from his defensive crouch. There was a sharp gingery smell in the air, some local pollen,