"Roger Zelazny - Hall Of Mirrors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

Roger Zelazny. Hall of Mirrors

Neither of us realized there had been a change until a halfdozen guys
tried an ambush.
We had spent the night in the Dancing Mountains, Shask and I, where I'd
witnessed a bizarre game between Dworkin and Suhuy. I'd heard strange tales
about things that happened to people who spent the night there, but I hadn't
had a hell of a lot of choice in the matter. It had been storming, I was
tired, and my mount had become a statue. I don't know how that game turned
out, though I was mentioned obliquely as a participant and I'm still
wondering.
The next morning my blue horse Shask and I had crossed the Shadow
Divide 'twixt Amber and Chaos. Shask was a Shadow mount my son Merlin had
found for me in the royal stables of the Courts. At the moment, Shask was
traveling under the guise of a giant blue lizard, and we were singing songs
from various times and places.
Two men rose on either side of the trail from amid rocky cover,
pointing crossbows at us. Two more stepped out before usone with a bow, the
other bearing a rather beautiful looking blade, doubtless stolen,
considering the guy's obvious profession.
"Halt! and no harm'll happen," said the swordsman.
I drew rein.
"When it comes to money, I'm pretty much broke right now," I said, "and
I doubt any of you could ride my mount, or would care to."
"Well now, maybe and maybe not," said the leader, "but it's a rough way
to make a living, so we take whatever we can."
"It's not a good idea to leave a man with nothing," I said. "Some
people hold grudges."
"Most of them can't walk out of here."
"Sounds like a death sentence to me."
He shrugged.
"That sword of yours looks pretty fancy," he said. "Let's see it."
"I don't think that's a good idea," I said.
"Why not?"
"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?"