"Jim Theis - The Eye of Argon (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Theis Jim)

sparkling white ivory. The man upon the throne had a naked wench seated at
each of his arms, and a trusted advisor seated in back of him. At each
cornwr of the chamber a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes
supported in their hands, golden chainmail adorning their torso's and
barred helmets emitting scarlet plumes enshrouding their heads. The man
rose from his throne to the dias surrounding it. His plush turquois robe
dangled loosely from his chuncky frame.
The soldiers surrounding Grignr fell to their knees with heads bowed
to the stone masonry of the floor in fearful dignity to their sovereign,
leige.
"Explain the purpose of this intrusion upon my chateau!"
"Your sirenity, resplendent in noble grandeur, we have brought this
yokel before you (the soldier gestured toward Grignr) for the redress or
your all knowing wisdon in judgement regarding his fate."
"Down on your knees, lout, and pay proper homage to your sovereign!"
commanded the pudgy noble of Grignr.
"By the surly beard of Mrifk, Grignr kneels to no man!" scowled the
massive barbarian.
"You dare to deal this blasphemous act to me! You are indeed brave
stranger, yet your valor smacks of foolishness."
"I find you to be the only fool, sitting upon your pompous throne,
enhancing the rolling flabs of your belly in the midst of your elaborate
luxuryand ..." The soldier standing at Grignr's side smote him heavily in
the face with the flat of his sword, cutting short the harsh words and
knocking his battered helmet to the masonry with an echo-ing clang.
The paunchy noble's sagging round face flushed suddenly pale, then
pastily lit up to a lustrous cherry red radiance. His lips trembled with
malicious rage, while emitting a muffled sibilant gibberish. His sagging
flabs rolled like a tub of upset jelly, then compressed as he sucked in his
gut in an attempt to conceal his softness.
The prince regained his statue, then spoke to the soldiers surrounding
Grignr, his face conforming to an ugly expression of sadistic humor.
"Take this uncouth heathen to the vault of misery, and be sure that
his agonies are long and drawn out before death can release him."
"As you wish sire, your command shall be heeded immediately," answered
the soldier on the right of Grignr as he stared into the barbarians
seemingly unaffected face.
The advisor seated in the back of the noble slowly rose and advanced
to the side of his master, motioning the wenches seated at his sides to
remove themselves. He lowered his head and whispered to the noble.
"Eminence, the punishment you have decreed will cause much misery to
this scum, yet it will last only a short time, then release him to a land
beyond the sufferings of the human body. Why not mellow him in one of the
subterranean vaults for a few days, then send him to life labor in one of
your buried mines. To one such as he, a life spent in the confinement of
the stygian pits will be an infinitely more appropiate and lasting
torture."
The noble cupped his drooping double chin in the folds of his briming
palm, meditating for a moment upon the rationality of the councilor's
word's, then raised his shaggy brown eyebrows and turned toward the