"John Maddox Roberts - Conan and the Amazon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts John Maddox)

"Ah! That sort of thing can make a man unwelcome." Kye-Dee shifted his shoulder, readjusting the
hang of a cased bow and quiver. The sword at his belt was short and curved.
"So it did," the Cimmerian affirmed. "Such of my comrades as survived were hunted through the hills
like so many stags. It was in a hill village that I heard of this place. As you say, winter draws nigh and
these mountains are not a good place to be when the north wind blows, unless you have walls and a roof
and a fire nearby."
Near the walls of the city they encountered animal pens roughly constructed of sticks and brush
enclosing flocks of sheep, tittle herds of goats, cattle and pigs. Elsewhere, peasants in tunics of hairy hide
guarded wicker cages overcrowded with chickens, ducks and geese.
"The local folk are taking advantage of the new population," Conan said. "Men who never saw
more than a few copper coins in their lives will be demanding silver and gold for those animals."
"Peasants always flock to the smell of profit," said Kye-Dee. He spat copiously upon the ground.
"You should see them come out of their hiding places after a battle, to strip and rob the dead."
"I've seen it many times," Conan said grimly, "Only, they do not always wait patiently for men to die.
They slaughter the wounded. If a man has no strength left to resist, they may not bother to kill him, but
will cut off his fingers to get the rings, or his hand to take a bracelet, while he yet lives."
"They are two-legged swine!" said one of the other Hyrkanians.
Conan shrugged. "Well, they've little reason to love soldiers any more than we love them." He eyed
his new companions, many of whom limped as if their feet were sore. "I have seldom seen men of your
nation afoot." The Hyrkanians were a nomadic race of horsemen who were horrified at the thought of
walking.
Kye-Dee smiled sheepishly. "We were set upon by the Kagan's men a few days ago as we slept
They got all our horses, but those of us you see escaped into the darkness. They did not bother to hunt
us, since they assumed that we would die soon without our mounts."
"I, too, was riding until a few days ago," Conan admitted. "A robber tried to slay me from a
distance. He was a wretched archer and he missed me, but his arrow killed my horse. I killed him, then I
cached my saddle, but I doubt I'll ever return to get it"
They passed beneath the gateless lintel and entered the town of Leng. The low, mud-colored walls
of the houses were of a dreary sameness, but the people in the streets were a raffish lot seemingly drawn
from half the nations and races of the world. There were men in long, striped desert robes, flowing
Nemedian silks, and even a few in the tight, elaborate clothing of Aquilonian dandies. Conan saw
hard-looking traveling merchants and men who were obvious deserters from the armies of surrounding
lands. There were women in the dress of Zamoran harlots, and other, less fortunate woman destined for
the same trade, wearing the chains of slaves.
"A strange place," Conan mused. "It is a ghost town sprung to life."
"My friend!" Kye-Dee said, addressing a well-armed merchant who stood guard over a stall
offering unguents, medicinal salves and remedies for man and horse. "Where may weary travelers find
refreshment and a roof, and all of it somewhere out of this accursed wind?"
"I think men such as you will be served best at the Red Eagle," said the man, pointing toward one of
the towerlike bouses. One side of the structure had been painted with the huge, crude image of a
splay-winged bird, its beak cruelly hooked.
"Why men such as we?" Conan asked.
The merchant grinned crookedly. "Because it is the favored hangout for rogues and bandits. True,
there are few men of any other sort in this town, but the hardest cases go to the Red Eagle. Achilea
herself holds forth there of a night."
"Achilea!" Conan said, astonished. "Surely she is a thing of travelers' tales, not a real woman!"
 "Oh, she is real," Kye-Dee affirmed. "I saw her myself once, from a distance. Men say she is very
beautiful, and very cruel."
"This I must see for myself," Conan said. "Let us go to the Red Eagle."
As they walked, the Cimmerian called to mind the scattered words he had heard concerning the