"Linnea Sinclair - Gambit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sinclair Linnea)

body against hers. But the water had helped. She took another sip. The cabin no
longer spun in crazy loops. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her
knees, careful not to spill the rest of the water.
"Pajtok's convoy is scheduled to pass through the Nahil border within...тАЭ She
glanced over at the glowing numbers of the chronometer on the wall. "Within the
next three to six hours. He'll be in the mothership this time, instead of one of the
Razim. The fightercraft are decoys."
Jhen-Aris was silent. Ty could guess at his thoughts. Many times the Jhen had tried
for the Emperor-Elect. But T'Sri convoys were large affairs and Pajtok's tendency to
ride in the fightercraft was well known. He rarely traveled in the mothership. But
which Razim he traveled in had always been the question.
"You're sure of this?"
"Positive. I took the information from a T'Sri mind. On the Rachella."
He leaned forward to retrieve the rifle from the floor then stood. The weapon
dangled absently from his hand, as if he knew it was there but it no longer concerned
him. The frown on his face told Ty that other things did.
He paced over to the desk and tossed the rifle on top. When he turned back to her,
two fingers lay over his mouth as if he were keeping inside, for the moment,
questions demanding to be spoken. Then he dropped his hand, his palm open in
supplication.
"Why did you lie about this? Why didn't you tell me?"
She saw no anger in his face, no accusation in his eyes. Just concern. Confusion.
"It's not your fight. I know the Jhen's opinion of the Lifari. You confirmed that when
you all but told me I was wasting my time avenging the deaths of the Rachella's
crew."
"That's not what I said."
"But I know that's what you meant. Would you've worked with me if you'd known
what I was? Or would you just have taken the information and....тАЭ She decided not
to voice this option, in case he decided to exercise it now. His present kindness
towards her notwithstanding, he was still Jhen. An Otherworlder. What was one
more dead witch?
"So I told you I was doing it for money," she continued. "I figured you'd accept
that."
"And now?"
She shook her head wearily, then rested her cheek against her arms. "Now it doesn't
matter. I'd guess we're halfway, if not more, to Maros." She absently turned the
glass still in her hand. "We'd never make it back in time to set the trap, even if you
dropped out of hyperspace right now.
"Plus, the convoy'd sense your ship a long way off and never approach. That's why
I used the Dreamweaver. A disabled freighter's hard bait to resist."
"You're right about one thing, you know. You're only half-Lifarian. A real witch
would know exactly where we are. We're not headed for Maros Prime."
Not...? She raised her head from the cradle of her arms and stared at him. She felt no
movement, no sub-light thrumming of the drives. That had to mean they were in
hyperspace. Or....
Or they were standing still.
She closed her eyes, tried to reach out with the homing sense she was supposed to
have, but pain and weakness prevented her. "I can't sense anything right now," she
told him when she opened her eyes. "I'm not that good."
He confirmed her supposition with a smugness in his voice. "My order to return to