"Tepper, Sheri S - A Plague Of Angels - plangel4" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

 A PLAGUE OF ANGELS 383

be unworthy of us in one case may be only sensible in the other. If you want
to save your Orphan--""Of course I do!"
"Then we need to think carefully about the coming battle. Call it planning, if that is more acceptable."
The first Hero remarked thoughtfully, "Several of the younger Heroes have come up with some ideas."
"Younger Heroes," said Orphan's Hero, puckering his mouth as though to spit, "who have scarcely left their mothers' skirts."
"Do they need to'?" Abasio asked, surprising himself with the question. Hadn't he himself been all too eager to leave his mother's skirts?
Orphan's Hero said flatly, "Of course they must! No man may be a Hero until he repudiates the female influence and joins the great company of puissant men! We must strip ourselves of female sensibility, of female constraints-"
"Then why are you here, saving some female?" Abasio asked in exasperation.
"It's what we do," asserted Orphan's Hero in a kindly though commanding voice. "If the females are worthy and pure. My Orphan is worthy and pure. She is a virgin, brave and kind and sensible. I taught her to fight when she was little--not that a woman could ever be very good at it!"
His colleague stared into the distance. "Lately," he said, "some of us have been discussing our relations with women, our rescuing maidens and all that. Nothing we can follow up on now, of course, for we've no time, but in the future, perhaps--"
Orphan's Hero snorted. "What have you to suggest, Orphan's friend?" Abasio told them some of the ideas that he and Tom and Arakny had come up with. A group of other Heroes gathered around during the discussion that fi~llowed, several of the younger ones offering ideas of their own. Though Orphan's Hero sniffed at the ihought of anything except ritual declamations followed by direct hand-to-hand combat, many of the others seemed able to accommodate the idea of evasion or even outright deception.
"If this is to work, someone must speak to the monsters," said one of the younger Heroes.
"True," agreed Abasio. "And if you know them, you'd be better at it than I."
"I could go under a flag of truce," said Orphan's Hero. "That is an honorable approach."
"However you like," said Abasio. "But whatever you do must be done soon. There'll be no time for conferring come morning."
"Will the monsters even consider helping us'?" asked an older Hero in a doubtful voice.


384 Sheri S. Tepper

Abasio said, "I saw a fight between monsters and walkers once. I've a feeling the monsters hate the walkers as much or more than any of us do. I know if that fight was a fair example, monsters can dispose of walkers far better than we can. If we can make our request in a way they will think proper--"
"Humnph," said Orphan's Hero.
Abasio could take no more time. "I need to get to the gangets before light, however. They're massed in the canyon below the eastern wall."
"I'll guide you," the young Hero said enthusiastically. "I know this country well, and I can lead you north of the Place of Power, between the
walkers and the monsters, without either of them knowing you are there." "Sneaking!" challenged Orphan's Hero.
"Just getting the job done," replied the young Hero in an offended voice. He was as good as his word, though after they had spent most of an hour in slow, silent travel, Abasio thought there might be something to be said for ritual declamations and a full gallop.

Some time after Abasio and his escort had departed, Orphan's Hero put on his helm, threw a cloak around his shoulders, readied a white scarf to use as a flag of truce, and mounted his war-horse.
"The others should be a mile or so ahead by now," he announced. "I will speak to the monsters."
The other Heroes raised their swords in salute, then returned to their assigned duties, most of which would require backbreaking and difficult work through what remained of the night hours.
Hero rode in a long, obvious arc that took him north of the Place of Power and kept him a good distance from the walkers and the walls. Once there, he kneed his horse into a canter and went boldly toward the rocky canyons that led upward toward the crags. The ground was not heavily forested. When the lightning flashed, he looked over his shoulder and saw that both wall and walkers were clearly visible. During a period of prolonged darkness, he could actually see the gleam of their red eyes, which meant they were looking in his direction. He told himself they did not frighten him, but he hurried
his horse directly toward the canyons, nonetheless.Came a yammering from behind him.
He turned the horse and kneed it into a sidling gait that let him keep his eyes on the wall while moving toward his destination. Three of the walkers seemed to have decided to come after him. They were moving forward slowly, like prowling cats, stalking him. The others along the wall had fallen dead silent, but they were watching.
Hero swallowed deeply.


A PLAGUE OF ANGELS 385

"Who?" said a huge voice from the rock beside him.
He turned his head briefly, just long enough to see a giant half-hidden behind a pillar, its huge and craggy face lit from below by a glow:,ng cookfire, over which something skewered spat fat into the coals. Either the cooking meat or the giant himself had a rank and musty smell.
Hero kept his eyes on the approaching walkers as he spoke. "I am an archetypal Hero come to ask a boon from the--the great legendary creatures assembled here at the Place of Power."
The walkers stopped prowling. One of them. began a rush.
"Mine," growled Hero, as he put his lance beneath his arm and turned the horse to face his enemy. "Mine."
"You are mine," said the walker in an icy voice as he increased his speed.
"Mine," asserted the giant disagreeably, taking several steps forward and pounding the walker into the ground with his fist, like a nail into a board.
Though the other two walkers had stayed where they were, the monster took two more giant steps and nailed them into the ground as well.