"Sean Russell - The Swan's War 2 - Isle of Battle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russell Sean)

"Have of you? What have you to offer?" Alaan paused.тАЭ I want to know if Sir Eremon has
come after me. Is he here in the
swamp?"
The man said nothing, watching him.
"You will not keep your head up much longer," Alaan said.
"He is not here," the man said.
Alaan felt a wave of relief and disappointment.тАЭ You are certain?"
"Yes."
"Then give me your word that you will harm me not, and I will set you free."
The man's head began to tremble.тАЭ You have it," he said, his tone saying that he still
believed Alaan toyed with him.
Alaan raised his sword, and when he brought it down, the man turned his head and
closed his eyes. But when he felt some of his bonds loosen he looked back again.
"Who are you, then?" he almost whispered.тАЭ Who are you who sets his enemies free?"
"You? You aren't my enemy, man-at-arms. Hafydd, whom you call Sir Eremon, is my
enemy. But you . . . you are but a sword with a man attached. There are ten thousand
like you. But I will spare your lifeтАФout of pity for you, who have no thoughts of your
own."
Alaan continued to slash away at the vines that held the man until he could move again,
though his arms were still pinned to his sides. With some difficulty Alaan hauled the man
up and cut free his legs and feet.
"What about my sword?"
Alaan poked around in the water and rushes until he felt something solid, then fished
out a sword. He assured himself that the man's arms and hands were immobilized by the
tanglevine and then slid the man's sword back into his scabbard.
"Why did you ask for my word if you were to keep me bound?"
"Because I take no more risks than I must, man-at-arms. This
^-o

way. . . ." He pointed with his sword.тАЭ Let me put a hand on your shoulder."

"Welloh did wound you, then . . . before you cut his throat out." "He would have
murdered me on the spotтАФme, who had never done him harm or even known his name.
Any man would have done what I did. Even you." Alaan waved his sword.тАЭ This
channel."

They turned down a narrow, open waterway, the man's gait awkward from his bound
arms, and Alaan leaning on him and hobbling like a cripple.

They did not talk as they went, Alaan silent from the pain, the other still suspicious and
harboring his words, Alaan guessed. They staggered down an open channel in
thigh-deep water, bubbles rising where they disturbed the soft bottom. A breeze set the
reeds to hissing.

It was a long hour of going and stopping to rest Alaan's wounded leg. Twice he sat
down in the water, overcome by pain, the man-at-arms standing docilely by.

"Your wound must be deep," the man-at-arms said, gazing at him.тАЭ To the bone," Alaan
answered between clenched teeth.тАЭ I am a man of my word," the other said.тАЭ Free my