"David Weber & Linda Evans - Hell Hath No Fury" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weber David)

service, and the construction planners and operations people had probably figured they might as well get
the last of their money's worth out of it before it finally went to the boneyard. Yet even though it
couldn't come remotely close to matching the speed and effortless power of something like one of the
new Paladins, Kinlafia had never been happier to see one of those more splendiferous lords of the rails.
His mind ran back over the wearisome journey since he'd separated from Janaki's platoon and its little
column of Arcanan POWs. The ride to Fort Ghartoun had been hard enough, but the journey across
Failcham had been worse. Much worse.
Normal Portal Authority policy called for the forts which housed the Authority's garrisons and
administrative centers to be located, like Fort Salby, on the Sharonian side of the portal they covered.
The planners had made an exception in Fort Ghartoun's case, however, for a couple of reasons. One was
that the Failcham side of the Failcham-Thermyn portal was located very close to the spot occupied by
the city of Yarahk in Sharona. Unfortunately, "very close," especially in multiversal terms, wasn't the
same thing as "in exactly the same spot." Yarahk had grown on the banks of the mighty, north-flowing
Sarlayn River, just below the Sarlayn's first cataract and almost six hundred miles south of the Mbisi.
The Sarlayn Valley was fertile enough, and Yarahk was fairly popular as a winter resort, but the portal
was thirty miles outside the valley, in the barren desert to the west. It sat on a thoroughly unpleasant
piece of dry, sun-blasted dirt and rock, with very little to recommend it aside from the portal itself. Just
providing a garrison with water would have been hard enough.
Admittedly, Fort Ghartoun (only, of course, it had been Fort Raylthar when it was built) was also
located in a remarkably arid spot, but at least water was closer to hand. And so were Snow Sapphire
Lake and the Sky Blood Lode. It had made sense to put the local Authority administrative center on the
Sky Blood Mountains' side of the portal, given the availability of water and the fact that keeping a
watchful eye on the development of that massive silver lode was eventually going to become the local
authorities' primary concern.
But locating Fort Ghartoun on the Thermyn side of the portal hadn't made the journey across Failcham
any more pleasant. The Karys-Failcham portal was located in the North Ricathian Desert, close to what
would have been the city of Judaih, better than fourteen hundred miles west of Yarahk. Fourteen
hundred miles of desert, in point of fact, in which the water a traveler could carry was altogether too
often the margin between survival and something else.
The letter of priority Crown Prince Janaki had gotten Regiment-Captain Velvelig to endorse for Kinlafia
had helped enormously. Among other things, it had allowed him to requisition Portal Authority horsesтАФ
and, for the desert-crossing aspects of his journey, experienced local guides. His homeward journey had
been far more rapid (and strenuous) than his survey crew's outward journey, and his letter had provided
him with dune-treaders, as well as horses, for the trip to Fort Mosanik, on the Karys side of the Karys-
Failcham portal.
From Fort Mosanik, located in the general area of the Sharonian city of Queriz, the terrain had been at
least a little friendlier than that between Mousanik and Ghartoun. Of course, only the North Ricathian
Desert could have made the Queriz Depression seem particularly hospitable. At its deepest point,
Kinlafia knew, the Depression was almost a hundred feet below sea level, dotted with salt lakes and
covered with feather grass, tamarisk, and wormwood, where it wasn't outright desert in its own right.
Still, oases were more frequent, and the much flatter terrain, once one got south of the highlands around


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 - Prologue

Fort Mosanik itself, was much easier going. Not to mention the fact that he'd only had to cover around
three hundred and fifty miles of it before he met up with the advancing railhead.
Which meant, he thought, hoisting his valise and starting along the platform towards the rudimentary
station building, that he only had another three or four weeks to go to get home.