"Karl Edward Wagner - Kane 01 - Darkness Weaves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wagner Karl Edward)

placed there to cut down the chill draft from outsides-- and to shut out the light from the lantern within.
For as he stepped through the curtains, Imel saw that the chamber had been recently furnished for human
occupancy.

Here in this ancient, shadow-haunted burial chamber Kane had made his lair.

"Well, where is he?" asked Imel brusquely. He was eager to get down to business and thereby shake off
the dark, half-felt fears that had haunted him ever since he had entered the funerary district.

"Not used to waiting, are we now? Well, he'll get here in his own time, At least, he knows we're coming
tonight," said Arbas, and appropriated the chamber's sole chair.

Cursing the assassin's insolence, Imel cast about the chamber for another seat. There was none. Still the
chamber had been astonishingly well furnished--particularly so considering the difficulty and the danger of
surveillance involved in bringing anything to these tombs. In the corner on the floor was a good bed of
several large pelts and a mattress. Along with the chair there was a table with two lamps, several bottles,
items of food and--most amazing of all--a number of books, scrolls, and writing implements. Scattered
about the floor and empty niches were various other items--jars of oil, a crossbow and several quivers of
bolts, utensils, more food, a battle-axe, and an assortment of rather ancient daggers, rings, and other bits
of metalwork. There was a bed of ashes, still quite warm, where Kane had risked building small cooking
fires. A stack of unburned wood indicated the use Kane had found for the coffins whose resting piece he
had preempted.

Heaped in a pile were the discarded bones of the coffins' tenants, and as Imel looked at this mound he
felt the hackles of his neck rise. He had never been known as a squeamish man, and there had been no
indication that the spirits of these dead were to be reckoned with. Rather, his disquiet stemmed from the
state of these mouldering bones. It was enough that they had been gnawed--this could have been done
by rats--but beyond that, they had been meticulously cracked apart and the marrow scraped from within.
Something human--or vaguely human--would have devoured the rotting corpses like this, reflected Imel.
He shuddered even though the bones were old and crumbling.

Idly Imel stirred a curious finger through the litter of antique ornaments and metalwork. He was slightly
disappointed to discover nothing of consequence. "Kane been pilfering tombs for this junk?" he asked,
startled at the loudness of his voice.

The assassin shrugged. "I don't know. He's been holed up here long enough to go stir-crazy, but I'd
guess he was just collecting the stuff to keep busy. Maybe he's thinking about making something with it.
Maybe write up a catalogue for the pedants at the academy up in Matnabla. You know, I mean what
would you do up here all the time? Kane's... I don't know." He broke off in a mutter and became
interested in his dagger.
 Imel sighed in frustration, searching about the chamber for diversion. He noticed a cryptic pattern of
intricate design and archaic pictographs arched over the threshold. Based on what he had seen thus far,
he shrewdly guessed that this represented some manner of charm against the supernatural. Without
comprehension he studied the talisman for a space, scratching, slowly at the unaccustomed stubble he
had let grow over his features.

The noise of the tempest outside, coupled with his unnatural surroundings, was making Imel more
nervous by the minute. He crossed over to the table where Arbas nonchalantly honed his dagger upon a
stone Kane had placed there. Leaning over, he looked at the books there in admiration--although more
for their monetary than intellectual value. Curiously he leafed through several of them. Two were in the