"Cook, Glen - Black Company 02 - Shadows Linger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cook Glen)

You try your damnedest, but something always goes wrong. That's life. If you're smart, you plan for it.

Somehow, somebody got away from Madle's, along about the twenty-fifth Rebel who stumbled into our web, when it really looked like Neat had done us a big favor, summoning the local hierarchy to a conference. Looking backward, it is hard to fix blame. We all did our jobs. But there are limits to how alert you stay under extended stress. The man who disappeared probably spent hours plotting his break. We did not notice his absence for a long time.

Candy figured it out. He threw his cards in at the tail of a hand, said, "We're minus a body, troops. One of those pig farmers. The little guy who looked like a pig."

I could see the table from the corner of my eye. I grunted. "You're right. Damn. Should have taken a head count after each trip to the well."

The table was behind Pawnbroker. He did not turn around. He waited a hand, then ambled to Madle's counter and bought a crock of beer. While his rambling distracted the locals, I made rapid signs with my fingers, in deaf-speech. "Better be ready for a raid. They know who we are. I shot my mouth off."

The Rebel would want us bad. The Black Company has earned a widespread reputation as a successful eradicator of the Rebel pestilence, wherever it appears. Though we are not as vicious as reputed, news of our coming strikes terror wherever we go. The Rebel often goes to ground, abandoning his operations, where we appear.

Yet here were four of us, separated from our companions, evidently unaware that we were at risk. They would try. The question at hand was how hard.

We did have cards up our sleeves. We never play fair if we can avoid it. The Company philosophy is to maximize effectiveness while minimizing risk.

The tall, dark man rose, left his shadow, stalked toward the stair to the sleeping rooms. Candy snapped, "Watch him, Otto." Otto hurried after him, looking feeble in the man's wake. The locals watched, wondering.

Pawnbroker used signs to ask, "What now?"

"We wait," Candy said aloud, and with signs added, "Do what we were sent to do."

"Not much fun, being live bait," Pawnbroker signed back. He studied the stair nervously. "Set Otto up with a hand," he suggested.

I looked at Candy. He nodded. "Why not? Give him about seventeen." Otto would go down first time around every time if he had less than twenty. It was a good percentage bet.

I quick figured the cards in my head, and grinned. I could give him seventeen and have enough low cards left to give each of us a hand that would burn him. "Give me those cards."

I hurried through the deck, building hands. "There." Nobody had higher than a five. But Otto's hand had higher cards than the others.

Candy grinned. "Yeah."

Otto did not come back. Pawnbroker said, "I'm going up to check."

"All right," Candy replied. He went and got himself a beer. I eyed the locals. They were getting ideas. I stared at one and shook my head.

Pawnbroker and Otto returned a minute later, preceded by the dark man, who returned to his shadow. Pawnbroker and Otto looked relieved. They settled down to play.

Otto asked, "Who dealt?"

"Candy did," I said. "Your go."

He went down. "Seventeen."

"Heh-heh-heh," I replied. "Burned you. Fifteen."

And Pawnbroker said, "Got you both. Fourteen."