"Amber Short Story 06 - Hall of Mirrors 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"If I draw it, I may wind up killing you," I said.

He laughed.

"We can take it off your body," he said, glancing to his right and
left.

"Maybe," I said.

"Let's see it."

"If you insist."

I drew Grayswandir with a singing note. It persisted, and the eyes of the
swordsman before me widened as it went on to describe an arc calculated to
intersect with his neck. His own weapon came out as mine passed through his
neck and continued. His cut toward Shask and passed through the animal's
shoulder. Neither blow did any damage whatsoever.

"You a sorcerer?" he asked as I swung again, delivering a blow that
might have removed his arm. Instead, it passed harmlessly by.

"Not the kind who does things like this. You?"

"No," he answered, striking again. "What's going on?"

I slammed Grayswandir back into the scabbard.

"Nothing," I said. "Go bother someone else."

I shook the reins, and Shask moved forward.

"Shoot him down!" the man cried.

The men on either side of the trail released their crossbow bolts, as did
the other man before me. All four bolts from the sides passed through Shask,
three of the men injuring or killing their opposite numbers. The one from ahead
passed through me without pain or discomfort. An attempted sword blow achieved
nothing for my first assailant.

"Ride on," I said.

Shask did so and we ignored their swearing as we went.

"We seem to have come into a strange situation," I observed.

The beast nodded.

"At least it kept us out of some trouble," I said.