"Dave Duncan - A Handful Of Men 3 - The Stricken Field" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you. You had bad luck tonight, but I’m sure you can make up for it
with the women. I’ll let you tell me all about it tomorrow if you want. And I would be very, very grateful
if you could help me escape.”

He grunted. “If you see a way, then let me know and I’ll think about it.”

He stalked out.

Kadie lay down again and stared wide-eyed at the dark. Did he mean it? Could he help her? Now she
had a whole new terror to deal with. Despair was much easier to bear than hope.
Rain was falling in the Mosweeps, of course, but it was a warm, soothing rain, and the night was
pleasant in spite of it. Rap sat by himself on a rock at the front door of Shaggi’s castle, alongside the
waterfall. He was brooding about his family and worrying about the future. His grand design was starting
to fall apart already.

Today had been a holiday. For the first time in half a year, he had sat around and relaxed and not gone
anywhere. One of the youthful trolls had been sent off downstream to fetch Tik Tok’s anthropophagous
band; two more troll sorcerers had wandered in and been released from their servitude. A wild party
had hatched and was rapidly growing to a full-fledged riot. The noise inside the castle was incredible.

Nevertheless, there was a war on, and riotous parties were vulnerable to surprise attacks. Rap himself
had insisted on posting guards, taking one of the first watches himself. All he need do was keep a vigilant
eye on the ambience, and it was remaining silent. Growling and crunching noises in some bushes at the
far side of the pool told him where the two mundanes, Urg and Shaggi, were consoling each other in
traditional fashion. Thrugg would not mind, so Rap should not; although he was reminded that he had
enjoyed no time alone with Inos since the great storm washed out the causeway.

He recalled himself to duty, taking a glance at the ambience. He detected nothing within a hundred
leagues. He went back to meditating on what happened next.

Obviously there was little point now in visiting the Nogid Archipelago, for Zinixo and Tik Tok between
them had emptied the closet. The Covin was thought to have captured forty or so recruits, which meant
that the bad guys’ power was still growing faster than the good guys’.

So what next? Rap had gone fishing for an ally and landed an army, and he had no idea what to do with
it. Probably nothing. Zinixo had nurtured his Covin in secret until he was ready to strike, and Rap had
told Shandie that they would do much the same. No rendezvous, he had said, no preordained day of
uprising. To set a time or place would be to invite discovery. Sneak attacks might betray the entire
movement. Bizarre as it seemed in mundane terms, that strategy had been accepted by both imperor and
warlock.

The troll sorcerers would fit in well with it. They would very happily vanish off back to their castles and
wait until trumpets of the Last Battle rang in the ambience. Whether they would then respond, of course,
was a problem for the future.

But the anthropophagi must find some safer refuge. They were already homeless refugees and would
enjoy life in the Mosweeps no more than a faun did. Inevitably they would start preying on the imps, if
not for meat then just for sport. As soon as their presence became known the army would start hunting