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

Tik Tok paused in his gnawing. “Downstream. Watercourses felicitate travel in jungles.”

“Good point. But that takes us to the coast, and there will be imps at the coast.”

“Mm!” The anthropophagus nodded and licked his lips.

Then he flashed pictures of forty or so sorcerers standing on the shore, calling in a ship, compelling the
crew to row to shore in their longboat, marooning the sailors, and rowing back out in their boat. The
imagery was not as vivid as Thrugg’s, and rather spoiled by an alcoholic unsteadiness, but it obviously
represented a feasible plan when there was so much power available. The final scene showed the ship
sailing away with its rigging full of sorcerers, all lustily singing sea chanteys. A large, unidentified carcass
was being roasted over an improbable bonfire on the deck.

“I fail to see how carnal self-indulgence will promote the cause,” Sagorn remarked dryly.

Tik Tok turned to stare at him thoughtfully. “Where I come from, jotnar are regarded as speciously tasty
mortals.”

“I am sure my old meat would be unpleasantly stringy.” The haggard old face had turned a little paler,
though. Rap repressed a grin. It took a lot to discomfit the sage.

“We steal a ship of course,” Grunth said sleepily. ”Easy.”

“And go where?” That was the ultimate question. After a moment’s silence, Tik Tok said, “Did you and
your fellow compositors not set up a revenue?”

“No,” Rap said. “It seemed too dangerous.”

“Not much help!” Sagorn snapped, resuming his disdainful pout. ”With so much power available, why
not just go on the attack? If you can create a diversion, the Covin will send a party of sorcerers to
investigate. You overpower them, break their loyalty spells, and win them to your cause; then skedaddle
and pull the same trick somewhere else.”

Groaning like a constipated bull, Grunth subsided into the depths of her throne and closed her eyes.
Sagorn’s pale cheeks flushed pink.

“It won’t work, Doctor,” Rap said gently. “Sorcerous armies move instantaneously. You can’t run away
from them. Remember the trouble Raspnex went to when he rescued us in Hub? It was a miracle, what
he achieved that night. It had taken weeks to prepare, probably, and it cost him half a dozen votaries.
Guerilla warfare won’t work in the ambience. As soon as we show our hand, Zinixo will cut it off.”

The old man scowled. He was out of his depth with sorcery, and that discovery would be unwelcome.
Downstream, the party was waxing even wilder. Half the dancers were airborne, and so were some of
the lovers. The games were developing into occult tests of strength. A bear was wrestling a giant squid
near a tug of war between a team of trolls and six white stallions—

“Go and drop in on Lith’rian,” Grunth muttered without opening her eyes.

“I am inclined to agree with that, I think.” Rap sighed and quaffed some beer; the flavor made him
homesick. If there was organized resistance anywhere, it would be among the elves, in Ilrane. He