"Dave Duncan - The Seventh Sword - 2 - The Coming Of Wisdom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

He cuddled it to him, and the yells stopped.
As Quili reached him, he turned round and grinned. "This is
DAVE DUNCAN
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my friend Vixini." The baby was about a year old, obviously teething. It was a
slave baby— Quili's mind staggered.
Then this so-bewildering swordsman reached down a helping hand, and another man
sprang up on to the jetty. Nnanji remarked offhandedly, "My lord, may I have the
honor of presenting Apprentice Quili?" Then he went back to tickling the naked
baby, as if he were unaware of what he had just produced.
A giant! He was taller even than Nnanji, vastly wider and deeper, thickly
muscled. His hair was black, and his black eyes fixed on Quili with a cruel,
ruthless intensity that turned her bones to straw. Rape and death and carnage...
Nnanji was young to be a Fourth. This huge menace was a few years older, but far
too young to be a Seventh. Yet there were seven swords marked on his forehead,
and although his kilt was dirty, rumpled, and obviously bloodstained, it had
undoubtedly started out as the blue of that rank. He must have been sheltering
somehow from the rain, for the faint smears of gore on his chest and arms were
quite dry.
Momentarily Quili trembled on the verge of turning and fleeing before this
terrifying barbarian giant, then she began to stumble through the greeting to a
superior, remembering that Nnanji had said women went glassy when they met
Shonsu. She did not feel glassy, she felt like an aspen; her hands shook in the
gestures. Kandoru had told her that never in his long career had he ever met a
swordsman of higher rank than Sixth. She herself had never spoken to a Seventh


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of any craft—except her ladyship, and everyone knew that her husband had bought
that rank for her years ago. But no one would or could buy seven swordmarks.
She bowed, then straightened. The deadly gaze did not waver or shift from her
face. The giant's arm rose. The sun god streaked and flashed on a sword blade.
"I am Shonsu, swordsman of the seventh rank, and am honored to accept your
gracious service." His voice seemed to rise from depths unimaginable. Then the
muscles of his arm bunched again as he shot the sword back into its scabbard.
The formalities over, Lord Shonsu put his hands on his hips and smiled.
The transformation was miraculous, as if another man entirely were standing
before her. He had a wide, friendly grin, absurdly
16 THE COMING OF WISDOM boyish for his size. Hardness suddenly became male
good looks; thoughts of barbarians vanished. This enormous young lord was the
most incredibly masculine man she had ever seen.
"My apologies, apprentice!" He had the deepest voice she had ever heard, too, a
voice that seemed to echo all through her with shivery promises of confidence
and competence, of protection and consideration and good humor. That smile! "We
are not in a fit state to come visiting unannounced like this, and at such an
unsociable hour." Glassy now, very glassy. "You... you... are welcome, my lord."
The smile grew warmer still, like the rising sun. "You show great hospitality in
coming to meet us... and no small courage?" His eyes twinkled, "I hope that my