"Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - Rose of the Prophet 02 - The Paladin of the Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

wounded me deeply, in fact, especially after all the trouble I went to in
order to rescue both of you."
"Sond is a beast!" cried Pukah, casting Sond an indignant glance and
congratulating himself on his cleverness. The young djinn's sharp ears
pricked. "Uh, what do you mean . . . rescue us? If it's not asking too much of
you in your weakened condition to explain, Most Beneficent and Long-Suffering
Master."
"No, no. I'm just exhausted, that's all. And my head is spinning. If I could
just sit down ..."
"Certainly, Master. You do seem pale, sort of chartreuse. Lean on me."
Kaug draped his massive arm over Pukah's slender shoulder. Groaning, the young
djinn staggered beneath the weight.
"Where to, Master?" he gasped.
"My favorite chair," said Kaug with a weak gesture. "Over there, near my
cooking pot."
"Yes, Master," Pukah said with more spirit than breath left in his body. By
the time the two reached die huge sponge that the 'efreet indicated, the young
djinn was practically walking on his knees. Kaug sank into his chair.
Pukah, suppressing a groan, slumped down on the floor at his feet. Sond had
lapsed into silence, whether in order to
near better or because he was unconscious the young djinn didn't know and, at
this point, didn't care.
"You were not present at the battle that took place around die Tel, were you,
little Pukah?" said Kaug, settling his massive body in his chair. Leaning
back, he regarded die young djinn with a mild-eyed gaze.
"You mean the battle between Sheykhs Majiid and Jaafar and Zeid?" questioned
Pukah uneasily.
"No," said Kaug, shaking his head. "There was no battle between die tribes of
the desert."
"There wasn't?" Pukah appeared much amazed, then recovered himself. "Ah, of
course, there wasn't! Why should there be? After all, we are all brothers in
the spirit of AkhranтАФ"
"I mean the battle between die tribes of the desert and the armies of the Amir
of Kich," continued Kaug coolly. Pausing a moment, the 'efreet added, "Your
mouth is working, little Pukah, but I hear nothing coming out of it. I didn't
accidentally hit something vital, did I?"
Shaking his head, Pukah found his voice, somewhere down around his ankles. "My
. . . my master and die . . . the armies ofтАФ"
"Former master," amended Kaug.
"Certainly. Former m-master," Pukah stammered. "Forgive me, noble Kaug."
Prostrating himself, he hid his burning face against the floor.
The 'efreet smiled and settled himself more comfortably in his spongy soft
chair. "The outcome of the battle was never in question. Riding their magical
steeds, the troops of the Amir easily defeated your puny desert fighters."
"Were . . . were all... killed?" Pukah could barely force himself to say the
word.
"Killed? No. The objective of the Imam was to bring as many living souls to
Quar as possible. The orders of the Amir, therefore, were to capture, not
kill. The young women and children we brought to Kich to learn the ways of the
One, True God. The old people we left in the desert, for they can be of no use