"Karl Edward Wagner - Ravens Eyrie" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wagner Karl Edward)

obedience by the younger outlaw.
The noises from the kitchen seemed farther away, almost
melodious. The fire was burning better now, and he could feel its
heat on his side. Weed slapped his face stingingly, fighting off the
deadly fatigue. Perhaps he should walk about the room.
Maybe he should walk through the door, mount his horse, and
ride out. One man would stand a far better chance of escaping
pursuit. Let Pleddis overtake Kane and the others. Kane was the
reason for his relentless pursuit; he would not bother to press on
after one bandit. The price on Weed's head was tempting for a
single bounty hunter, but Pleddis had to pay his men; economics
would save him. And yet, Kane might well win free. The bandit
leader had done the incredible time and again before this.
Perhaps Kane could elude the arrows of fate once more,
Weed felt a certain loyalty to Kane. He had fought beside
Kane, followed his commandsтАФand Kane had proved to be a
highly capable and generous leader, Indeed, in the final battle
Weed and the others had broken through Pleddis's ambush on the
savage force of Kane's charge through the mercenary ranks. But
Weed felt a greater loyalty to his own neck, and it appeared
certain that Kane would never again hold power over the
Myceum passes. There remained the secret cache of loot that
Kane had hidden awayтАФagainst a disaster such as this. At
present Weed's possessions consisted of a sore-hooved mount, a
notched sword, and his battle-torn gear. If Kane would lead them
to his cache...
The sweet-smoke scent of roasting hens wrapped about him,
watering his mouth, though his belly was warm with wine and
meat from the meal just eaten. His head fell downward onto his
arm. He should get up before sleep claimed him.
And he did rise to his feet. Or he seemed to see his body stand,
pace about the room, peer through the fogged bull's-eye panes.
The shadows seemed to creep and hover in grotesque patterns as
he paced...
With a sudden jarring crash, Weed fell to the floor.
In an instant of confused panic, he thrashed free of the
overturned bench and tried to regain his feet, thinking dully that
he had rolled off in his sleep. Then he became aware of the
jeering face above the swordpoint levelled at his throat. Weed
froze.
"Now there we went and woke him up," grinned Pleddis.
Weed swallowed and waited for death. Many hands jerked him
to his feet, tore away his sword and dagger. A dozen or more of
Pleddis's men were pouting into Raven's EyrieтАФentering through
the kitchen, where Braddeyas lay with a split skull. A sudden
uproar, fierce but quickly stilled, echoed across the inn as the
mercenaries burst in on Darros and Seth. They died where they
slept.
Weed sweated. Pleddis's blade glinted before his throat.
The mercenary captain's face was jubilant, but his eyes were