"David Gemmel - The Damned 01 - White Wolf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

‘Phalia, that was rude!’ snapped Caphas. ‘It is the mark of an officer,
dear heart,’ he added swiftly, realizing he had shocked the child. ‘The
fighting men of Naashan adorn themselves in this way. An officer who has
. . . defeated . . . eight enemies in single combat is awarded the Spider.
Generals have panther tattoos upon their chests, or eagles if their victories
are great.’ He knelt beside the child. ‘But you should not make such
comments.’
‘I’m sorry, Father. But it is ugly.’
‘Children say what they think,’ said Skilgannon softly. ‘It is no bad
thing. Be calm, merchant. I mean you no harm. I shall spend the night in
your camp and be on my way in the morning. Your life is safe - as is the
honour of your family. And, by the way, the house you told your daughter
of was not mine. It was owned by a courtesan who was, shall we say, a
friend.’
‘I did not mean to offend, sir.’
‘My ears are very keen, merchant. And I am not offended.’
‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’
They heard the sound of horses in the distance. Skilgannon rose and
waited.
Within moments a column of cavalry rode into the clearing. Caphas,
who had journeyed in Naashan throughout the years of civil war, knew
them for the Queen’s Horse, black-clad warriors in heavy helms. Each
carried a lance, a sabre, and a small round shield decorated with a spotted
snake. At the head of the column was a civilian he recognized: Damalon,
the Queen’s favourite. His hair was long and blond, his face lean. The fifty
riders sat their mounts silently, while Damalon leapt lightly to the ground.
‘It has been a long ride, general,’ he said to Skilgannon.
‘And why did you make it?’ asked the warrior.
‘The Queen wants the Swords of Night and Day returned.’
‘They were a gift,’ said Skilgannon. He shrugged. ‘However, be that as it
may.’
Lifting the curious ornament he held it for a moment, then tossed it to
Damalon. In that moment Caphas saw a spasm of pain flicker on
Skilgannon’s face.
The handsome courtier glanced back to the soldiers. ‘No need for you to
stay, captain,’ he told a tall man sitting a chestnut gelding. ‘Our task here
is concluded.’
The rider edged his horse forward. ‘Good to see you again, general,’ he
said to Skilgannon. ‘May the gods be with you.’
‘And with you, Askelus,’ answered Skilgannon.
The cavalry swung their mounts and rode from the clearing. All that
remained were four riders, dark-garbed men carrying no swords. Long
knives hung at their belts. They dismounted and walked to stand alongside
Damalon.
‘Why did you leave?’ Damalon asked Skilgannon. ‘The Queen admired
you above all her generals.’
 ‘For reasons of my own.’
‘Most odd. You had it all. Riches, power, a palace a man might die for.
You could have found another wife, Skilgannon.’ Damalon curled his hand
around one of the ivory handles, then pulled upon it. Nothing happened.