"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 12 - Eloise" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

distance.

Dumarest stopped, rose, knife in hand; a beam of stray light
catching the nine-inch blade, winking on the honed edge, the
needle-sharp point. Even as he drew the knife he had turned, was
running back the way he had come, past the doorway of the
tavern towards the man who loped towards him.

From behind came an urgent voice. "Get him!"

The man was tall, lithe, a fighter with accustomed reflexes;
hampered now by his clothing, the unexpected speed of the
attack. Even so he was fast. As Dumarest lunged forward he
backed, lifting his hand, something whining from the weapon he
carried.
 Dumarest felt it rip at his shoulder as he ducked and then he
was on the man: knife lifting in a blur, the edge biting, dragging
through the flesh and bone of the wrist so that hand and weapon
fell in a fountain of blood. Even as the man opened his mouth to
scream the point was rising, slashing to hit the throat, to sever
the arteries feeding the brain.

"Mineo!"

Dumarest spun at the sound of the voice. The man at his rear
was close, the one opposite halting as he raised his gun. At a
distance of forty feet he thought he was safe, taking his time as
he aimed. He took too long. Even as he aligned the barrel
Dumarest was moving, his arm lifting; the knife was a shimmer
as it lanced through the air to bury its point in an eye, the brain
beneath. Unarmed he leapt to one side, forward as the remaining
assailant hesitated, undecided whether to fight or run. The delay
cost him his life. Even as he fired Dumarest was on him; the
stiffened palm of his right hand cutting at the side of the neck,
the fingers of his left gripping the hand which held the gun,
crushing flesh against metal. Again he struck, felt the impact,
heard the dull snap of bone and turned; poised as a man came
running down the street towards him.

"Earl! What goes on?"

Branchard, the captain of the Tophier, the vessel which had
brought Dumarest to Tynar. He pursed his lips as he saw the
dead; watching as Dumarest recovered his knife, wiping it clean
on the man it had killed before thrusting it back into his boot.

"Earl?"

"They were waiting for me. There could be others."