"Anthony Piers - Sos the Rope" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

"Mister, I wouldn't meet you if you had a weapow. Not unless you had a tribe the size of this one to put up against it. Don't you know the rules?"
"I had hoped to save time."
Sav looked at him more carefully. "You know, you remind me of someone. Not your face, not your voice..You-"
"Select some man to meet me, then, and I will take him and all that follow him from you, until the tribe is mine."
Sav's look was pitying now. "You really want to tackle a trained staffer in the circle? With your bare hands?"
Sos nodded.
"This goes against the grain, but all right then." He summoned one of his men and showed the way to a central circle.
The selected staffer was embarrassed. "But he has no weapon!" he exclaimed.
"Just knock him down a couple of times," Sav advised. "He insists on doing it." Men were gathering; word had spread of Sos's feat with the guard's staff.
Sos removed his tunic and stood in short trunks and bare feet.
The bystanders gasped. The tunic had covered him from chin to knee and elbow, exposing little more than the hands and feet. The others had assumed that he was a large chubby man, old because of the color of his hair and the leathery texture of his face. They had been curious about the strength he had shown, but not really convinced it had not been a fluke effort.
"Biceps like clubheads!" someone exclaimed. "Look at that neck!" Sos no longer wore the metal collar; now his neck was a solid mass of horny callus and scar tissue. The staffer assigned to meet him stood openmouthed.
Sav pulled the man back. "Gom, take the circle," he said tersely.
A much larger staffer came forward, his body scarred and discolored by many encounters: a veteran. He held his weapon ready and stepped into the circle without hesitation.
Sos entered and stood with hands on hips.
Gom had no foolish scruples. He feinted several times to see what the nameless one would do, then landed a viciouis blow to the side of the neck.
Sos stood unmoved.
The staffer looked at his weapon, shrugged, and struck again.
After standing for a full minute, Sos moved. He advanced on Gom, reached out almost casually for the staff, and spun it away with a sharp twist of one wrist. He hurled it out of the circle.
Sos had never touched the man physically, but the staffer was out of business. He had tried to hold on to his weapon. Gom's fingers were broken.
"I have one man, and myself," Sos announced. "My man is not ready to fight again, so I will fight next for two."
Shaken, Sav sent in another warrior, designating a third as collateral. Sos caught the two ends of the staff and held them while the man tried vainly to free it. Finally Sos twisted and the weapon buckled. He let go and stepped back.
The man stood holding the S-shaped instrument, dazed. Sos only had to touch him with a finger, and the staffer stumbled out of the circle.
"I have four men, counting myself. I will match for four."
By this time the entire camp was packed around the circle. "You have already made your point," Sav said. "I will meet you."
"Yourself and your entire tribe against what I have here?" Sos inquired, mocking him.
"My skill against your skill," Sav said, refusing to be ruffled. "My group-against your service and complete information about yourself. Who you are, where you came from, how you learned to fight like that, who sent you here."
"My service you may have, if you win it, or my life- but I am sworn to secrecy about the rest. Name othes terms."
Sav picked up his staff. "Are you afraid to meet me?"
The men chuckled. Sav had nicely turned the dialogue on him. Who mocked whom?
"I cannot commit that information to the terms of the circle. I have no right."
"You have shown us your strength. We are curious. You ask me to put up my entire camp-but you won't even agree to put up your history. I don't think you really want to fight, stranger." The gathered men agreed vociferously, enjoying the exchange.
Sos appreciated certain qualities of leadership he had never recognized in Sav before. Sav had surely seen that he must lose if he entered the circle, and be shamed if he didn't. Yet he was forcing Sos to back off. Sav could refuse to do battle unless his terms were met, and do so with honor-and the word would quickly spread to Sol's other tribal leaders. It was a tactical, masterstroke.
He would have to compromise. "All right," he said. "Bul I will tell only you. No one else."
"But I will tell whom I please!" Sav specified.
Sos did not challenge that. He had to hope that, if by some mischance he lost, he could still convince Sav in private of the necessity for secrecy. Sav was a sensible, easygoing individual; he would certainly listen and think before acting.
It was too bad that the smiling staffer had to be hurt by his friend.
Sav entered the circle. He had improved; his staff was blindingly swift and unerringly placed. Sos tried to catch the weapon and could not. The man had profited from observation of the two lesser warriors, and never let his staff stand still long enough to be grabbed. He also wastec no effort striking the column of gristle. `He maneuvered instead for face shots, hoping to blind his antagonist, and rapped at elbows and wrists and feet. He also kept moving, as though certain that so solid a body would tire soon.
It was useless. Sos sparred a few minutes so that the staffer would not lose face before his men, then blocked the flying shaft and caught Sav's forearm. He yanked it to him and brought his other hand to bear.
There was a crack.
Sos let go and shoved the man out of the circle. No warrior present could mistake the finality of a dripping compound fracture. Men took hold of Sav as he staggered, hauled, at his arm and set the exposed bone in place and bound the terrible wound in gauze, while Sos watched mipassively from the circle.
It had not been strictly necessary. He could have won in a hundred kinder ways. But he had needed a victory that was serious and totally convincing. Had Sav lost indecisively, or by some trick blow that made him stumble from the circle like an intoxicated person, unmarked, the gathered witnesses would have been quick to doubt his capability or desire to fight, and the job would be unfinished. The break was tangible; Sav's men knew immediately that no one could have succeeded where their leader had failed, and that there had been no collusion and no cowardice.
Sos had inflicted dreadful pain, knowing that his erstwhile friend could bear it, in order to preserve what was more important: the loser's reputation.
"Put your second-in-command in charge of this camp," Sos snapped at Sav, showing no softness. "You and I take the trail-tomorrow morning, alone."


CHAPTER NINETEEN


Two men moved out, one with his arm in cast and sling. They marched as far as the broken arm and loss of blood permitted, and settled into a hostel for the' evening, without company.