"Robert E. Vardeman & Geo W. Proctor - The Swords of Raemllyn 1 - To Demons Bound" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vardeman Robert E)

his white silk blouse, the fine leather of his over-the-calf boots, and the weighty sway of a pouch tied to a
broad, silver-buckled belt about his waist had first drawn Aylrah's attention.
The young man's manner of dress bespoke wealth and a money pouch fat with gold rather than
copper. More than vest, silken shirt, boots, and silver-buckled belt, it was the pouch that mesmerized
Aylrah.
That the raven-haired young man carried a sword and dagger upon that same belt from which the
money pouch dangled was of little concern to the thief. Nor did he give more than a glance to the burly hulk
of a man who walked beside his intended victim. After all, Aylrah was dubbed "the Fleet," and rightly so.
For ten years he had artfully eluded the grasp of Bistonia's city guards and managed to live quite
comfortably off the purses of others less agile than himself.
Aylrah's right hand dropped to his waist. A slender, finely honed knife slid from its sheath as the
richly dressed man and his companion approached the alley. The blade rose high to pause at the top of its
arc. An icy fire flowed within Aylrah's veins. With all the strength he could muster, he drove the pointed
sliver of steel toward a vulnerably exposed back as his victim strolled past the dark alley, oblivious to Qar's
servant.
"Aaarrggaa!" Agony gasped from Aylrah's pain-twisted lips.
The deadly blade hovered in midair, its needle point a hairbreadth from a wine-colored brocade vest.
The pain-accented cry spun Davin Anane around. The swarthy young man's hand poisedтАФtoo
lateтАФon the hilt of his own silver dagger.
The danger had passed... for him!
"Friend Goran!" Davin Anane grinned widely. "What have you found this fine night?"
Though Aylrah's blade hovered at Davin's chest, it might as well have been embedded in granite for
all the harm it could deliver now. Davin's friend and fellow freebooter Goran One-Eye held the scrawny
thief at arm's length. The purse-snatch futilely kicked and struggled.
Against Goran, Aylrah's efforts availed him naught. The red-bearded giant's powerful arm bulged
with the effort of keeping the would-be assassin's feet just inches off the ground, his sole grip around one
bony wrist.
Abandoned by his legendary quickness, Aylrah des-perately swung his left hand up to salvage the
knife from his bloodless right.
Davin's own arm shot out with a speed that left Ayl-rah's jaw agape. The young adventurer snared
the knife and sent it cartwheeling into the night. It clattered against the cobblestone street twenty yards
distant.
A curious bypassing pedestrian, wrapped in the fur-lined cloak of a merchant, peered into the alley,
saw the deadly tableau, and blanched. He turned and hurried on his way, muttering to himself about crime
running ram-pant. In the city-state of Bistonia it was not wise to meddle in others' affairs, especially when
those affairs all too often spelled death for the unwary.
"So you thought to rob me, eh, little one?" Davin eyed the thief with more humor than he might have
shown on another occasion.
He and Goran had successfully completed a daring robbery of their own only a week before. Four
days of hard riding had ensured their escape. For the past three days and glorious nights they had been
enveloped in the wondersтАФand debaucheriesтАФoffered by Bistonia. As long as gold weighed nicely in his
pouch and the city guards kept their distance, Davin Anane was willing to let bygones be bygones.
Not so Goran.
The massive mountain of muscle and bone relished a good fight almost as much as anything else life
had to offerтАФa trait that had given Davin pause, and a shiver of fear, on more than one occasion. But then,
of all men alive, only Davin knew Goran One-Eye's secretтАФthe man was no man!
Rather, Goran was a Challing, a creature nine parts spirit for every one part physical.
Some claimed the Challings came from another space, drawn to this world by magicks so powerful
that only a few mortals had ever heard the chants, much less mas-tered them. For Challings were
changelings, entities ca-pable of assuming the form of any living creatureтАФor inanimate object.