"Briggs, Patricia - Sianim 3 - When Demons Walk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Briggs Patricia)

But it was more than just the suspicion that he was well able to defend himself against such an attack
that kept her blade where it was. It was the sadness in his eyes and the lines of pain that tightened his
mouth, both revealed by the bright moonlight.

Imagination, she told herself fiercely as the angle of his head changed and shadows hid his features;
but the impression remained. She shook her head with resignation: as she’d noted earlier, the Old Man’s
gentleness was rubbing off on her. The Leopard had not been with the army that entered the Castle, and
she didn’t hate enough to kill someone who had never done her harm—even if he was an
Altis-worshipping Cybellian.

“The Spirit Tide is impressive—” she agreed neutrally in the same language he’d addressed her,
“—but hardly worth braving Purgatory alone.” Her tone might have been neutral, but her words were
hardly the respect he must be used to receiving.

The Reeve merely shrugged and turned to look at the foam-capped waves, “I get tired of people. I
saw no real need to bring an escort; most of the occupants here are little threat to an armed rider.”

She raised an eyebrow and snorted at his profile, feeling vaguely insulted. “Typical arrogant


Cybellian,” she commented, deciding to continue as she had begun. She didn’t like to bow and scrape
more than was absolutely necessary. “Just because you say something does not make it so. Jackals travel
in packs and together can tear out the soft underbelly of prey many times their size and strength.”

He turned his face back to her and shot her a grin that was surprisingly boyish. “Jackals are only
scavengers.”

She nodded. “And all the more vicious for it. Next time don’t bring so much to tempt them. That
horse of yours would feed every cutthroat in the city for a year.”

He smiled and patted the thick neck of his mount affectionately. “Only if they managed to kill him and
decided to eat him. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to hold him long enough to sell him.”

“Unfortunately for you, they won’t know that until they try it.” Despite herself, Sham wondered at the
ruler of Southwood. She’d never met a nobleman, Cybellian or Southwoodsman, who would not have
taken offense at being reproved by someone who was at the very least a commoner and more likely a
criminal.

“Why are you so concerned about my fate, boy?” Kerim asked mildly.

“I’m not.” Sham grinned cheerfully, shivering as a breeze caught at her wet clothes. “I’m concerned
about our reputation. If the word gets out that you came through Purgatory without a scratch, everyone
will think they can do it. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “that might not be such a had thing. A few
nobles to dine on might improve the economy around here.”

The sound of another large wave hitting the rocks drew Kerim’s attention back to the sea and Sham
took the opportunity to study the Lord of Southwood, now that she knew who he was.

Though his nickname was the Leopard, there was little catlike about him. As he was sitting on his