"Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar Legends - Jimmy the Hand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

At the end of the quay he threw himself flat on the rough splintery
wood to hail the longboat below:

‘Farewell!’ he called to the Princess Anita.

She turned toward his voice, her lovely face little more than a pale
blur in the pre-dawn light. But he knew that her sea-green eyes would
be wide with astonishment.

I’m glad I came to say goodbye, he thought, an unfamiliar sensation
squeezing at his chest below the breastbone. It’s worth a little risk to
life and limb.

He grinned at her, but nervously; the fight with Jocko Radburn’s men
was heating up and his back felt very exposed. It wouldn’t be long
before the Mockers broke and ran; stand-up fights weren’t their style.

Another, taller figure stood in the longboat. ‘Here,’ Prince Arutha
called. ‘Use it in good health!’

A rapier in its scabbard flew up to his hand. He snatched it out of the
air and rolled over, just in time to avoid a kick from one of Radburn’s
bully-boys. Jimmy rolled again as the man pursued him, heavy-booted
foot raised to stamp on him like an insect. Letting the sword go he
reached up and grabbed toe and heel with crossed hands, giving it a
vicious twist that set the bully roaring and twisting to keep it from being
broken. That put him off-balance, and a kick placed with vicious
precision toppled him screaming into the water. His gear dragged him
under before the echoes of his scream could die.

‘Time to go!’ Jimmy panted.
 Rolling up to his feet, Jimmy yanked the rapier from its scabbard and
looked about for a worthy target-preferably one blocking the best
escape route. Below, he could just make out the rhythmic splashing of
the oars counterpoint the chaos of the battle all around him. Farewell, he
said again in his heart. Then, as a pile of baled cloth blazed up: Ooops!

Lanterns began to appear on the boats around them, and watchmen
from the surrounding warehouses came running, while from all around
men called out: ‘What passes?’ and ‘Who goes there?’ And a growing
shout: ‘Fire! Fire!’

A man in the black and gold of Bas-Tyra snatched a lantern from
one of the watchmen and marched toward the end of the dock, giving
Jimmy an idea of whom to attack. The soldier grinned at the sight of the
thin, ragged boy before him.

‘Brought me a new sword, have you?’ he said. ‘Looks like a good
one. Too good for gutter-scum whose whiskers haven’t yet seen a