"Ann Durand - Flight of the Gryphon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Durand Ann)

Morchison released a piece of torn fabric that hung from his belt. "Here's the scrap with the victim's
scent. It's already been fixed."

"Did you do it?"

"Yeah. Used extra suderik, too. Enough to get him down the mountain to the village and back up again.
It's also impregnated with the scent of a goat that we'll drag into the corral to get Gorgeron back up here.
I needed the extra suderik to hold the two scents."

"Extra suderik?" A look of fear flashed across Timoton's face. "As if it isn't bad enough fixing the
deadliest rocsadon in the corral, but to add more suderik?"

He shook his head, looking dismayed. Morchison understood. Suderik, a natural secretion produced
within the olfactory system of the animal, created the unfaltering focus of a rocsadon to destroy a specific
prey animal with single-minded ferocity-to the exclusion of all other prey. Suderik was the catalyst behind
the crazed predatory behavior of the rocsadons. They were milked for it in order to redirect their
behaviors toward selected individuals. Small vials of the stinky substance were kept in the lab for this
purpose and mixed with the scent of the chosen victim.

"Well, whoever wore this garment will be dead before nightfall…that's a fact," Morchison said,
positioning himself in front of Gorgeron.

Timoton approached the beast from behind with the tiket. Morchison stood with his feet splayed, ready
to drop the fixing cloth from a tiket in one hand, while gripping a set of ripping tails in the other.
Gorgeron, who had been slumbering between his posts, rolled up onto his knees and snorted in
anticipation. His back, a slate gray mountain of hard flesh, swayed as he lifted his massive head, perched
like a unweildy anchor at the end of a long neck.

"Up, Gorgeron!" Morchison yelled, and cast the ripping tails into the air, allowing the needle sharp tacks
to whistle past the beast's nose.

A low growl of protest rumbled from Gorgeron's throat, but he shifted his weight over his front legs,
hoisting his tonnage forward. When his back legs escaped and sprang free, he pushed his chest up over
his front legs, grunting. Then he stretched his neck up, up, until it reached its full height twenty feet over
the ground. Morchison swallowed hard as he stepped back out of range.

"Head down!" he commanded.

Gorgeron lowered his neck to the ground, gnashing his long teeth at Morchison, who whipped the tails
past his nose again for good measure. Then Morchison raised his tiket, preparing to drop the fixing cloth.
The timing for this exercise was critical, and a mistake could cost the handler dearly.

"Be careful," Timoton warned. "I'll let you know when the last chain is released. Wait until I shout ' now '.
Don't wait a single second after I shout. Remember what happened to Kastak Stanson two years
ago…he threw the cloth too late."

"Yeah, I was there. I saw the rocsadon fix on him instead."

"Really? I heard the rocsadon ignored the cloth…advanced on the poor chump."