"David Weber & Linda Evans - Hells Gate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weber David)

a class eight, then this muddy, swampy hunk of jungle was about to become very valuable real estate.
"In that case, Chief Sword," he said mildly after a moment, "I suppose you'd better get me to
Magister Halathyn."
***
Halathyn vos Dulainah was very erect, very dark-skinned, and very silver-haired, with a wiry build
which was finally beginning to verge on frail. Jasak wasn't certain, but he strongly suspected that the old
man was well past the age at which Authority regs mandated the retirement of the Gifted from active
fieldwork. Not that anyone was likely to tell Magister Halathyn that. He'd been a law unto himself for
decades and the UTTTA's crown jewel ever since he'd left the Mythal Falls Academy twenty years
before, and he took an undisguised, almost child-like delight in telling his nominal superiors where they
could stuff their regulations.
He hadn't told Jasak exactly why he was out here in the middle of this mud and bug-infested swamp,
nor why Magister Gadrial Kelbryan, his second-in-command at the Garth Showma Institute, had
followed him out here. He'd insisted with a bland-faced innocence which could not have been bettered
by a twelve-year-old caught with his hand actually in the cookie jar, that he was "on vacation." He
certainly had to the clout within the UTTTA to commandeer transportation for his own amusement at that
was what he really wanted, but Jasak suspected he was actually engaged in some sort of undisclosed
research. Not that Magister Halathyn was going to admit it. He was too delighted by the opportunity to
be mysterious to waste it.
He was also, as his complexion and the "vos" in front of his surname proclaimed, both a Mythalan
and a member of the shakira caste. As a rule, Jasak Olderhan was less than fond of Mythalans . . . and
considerably less fond than that of the shakira. But Magister Halathyn was the exception to that rule as
he was to so many others.
The magister looked up as Chief Sword Threbuch followed Jasak into his tent, the heels of their
boots loud on its raised wooden flooring. He tapped his stylus on the crystal display in front of him,
freezing his notes and the calculations he'd been performing, and smiled at the hundred over the glassy
sphere.
"And how is my second-favorite crude barbarian?" he inquired in genial Andaran.
"As unlettered and impatient as ever, Sir," Jasak replied, in Mythalan, with an answering smile. The
old magister chuckled appreciatively and extended his hand for a welcoming shake. Then he cocked his
canvas camp chair back at a comfortable, teetering angle and waved for Jasak to seat himself in the
matching chair on the far side of his worktable.
"Seriously, Jasak," he said as the younger man obeyed the unspoken command, "I apologize for
yanking you back here. I know how hard it was for you to get leave for your birthday in the first place,
and I know your parents must have been looking forward to seeing you. But I thought you'd want to be
here for this one. And, frankly, with all due respect to Hundred Thalmayr, I'm not sorry he was delayed.
All things being equal, I'd prefer to have you in charge just a little longer."
Jasak stopped his grimace before it ever reached his expression, but it wasn't the easiest thing he'd
ever done. Although he genuinely had been looking forward to spending his birthday at home in Garth
Showma for the first time in over six years, he hadn't been looking forward to handing "his" company
over to Hadrign Thalmayr, even temporarily. Partly because of his jealously possessive pride in Charlie
Company, but also because ThalmayrтАФwho was senior to himтАФhad only transferred into the Scouts
seventeen months ago. From his record, he was a perfectly competent infantry officer, but Jasak hadn't
been impressed with the older man's mental flexibility the few times they'd met before Jasak himself had
been forward-deployed. And it was pretty clear his previous line infantry experience had left him firmly
imbued with the sort of by-the-book mentality the Temporal Scouts worked very hard to eradicate.
Which wasn't something he could discuss with a civilian, even one he respected as deeply as he did
Magister Halathyn.
"The Chief Sword said something about a class eight," he said instead, his tone making the statement
a question, and Magister Halathyn nodded soberly.