"David Gemmell - Morningstar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

distance away against a wall.

'Help me with her,' I ordered him.

'Why?' he asked, pulling on his boot.

'We must get her to safety.’ There he is! Take him!' screamed the man on the
balcony. The sound of running footsteps came from the alley.

Time to go,' said the newcomer with a bright smile. At once he was on his feet and
running.

Armed men rushed into sight and set off after him. The officer of the Watch
approached me. 'What is happening here?' he asked.

I explained briefly about the attack on the girl, and of our sudden rescue. He
knelt by the still unconscious woman, his fingers reaching out to feel the pulse at her
throat. 'She'll come round,' he said. 'Her name is Petra. She is the daughter of the
tavern-keeper, Bellin. ’Which tavern?’ The Six Owls; it is quite close by. Come, I'll
help you carry her there.’ Who is the man you are chasing? ’Jarek Mace.’ He said the name
as if it was one I should know, but when I professed ignorance he smiled. 'He is a
reaver, a thief, an adulterer, a robber - whatever takes his fancy. There is no crime he
would not commit - if the price were worth the risks.’ But he came to our aid.’ I doubt
that. We had him cornered and he ran. I would guess he jumped from the window to escape
us - and landed in the midst of a fight. Lucky for you, eh? ’Extraordinarily lucky.
Perhaps it was fate.’ If fate is kind to you, bard, you will not meet him again.’ That
was the first time I saw the Morningstar.

The officer of the Watch was a kindly man. I do not recall his name, but I remember
how he covered the unconscious girl with his grey cloak before lifting her into his arms.
I thought this a gallant act. He was a strong man, and had no need of my assistance as we
walked through the alleys, corning at last to a wider street where three inns were
situated. The Six Owls was centrally placed, the building - three floors high -
stretching across an arched tunnel

that led to the stables. Heavy curtains covered the many ground-floor windows, but
the sound of raucous singing could be heard from within.

We took Petra, who was by now recovering, to a door at the rear and entered a wide
kitchen. Two middle-aged women ran forward as they saw the girl but the officer comforted
them, his voice soothing.

A serving girl ran to fetch the owner of the tavern, a colossal man named Bellin.
Bald as a rock and round as he was tall, his aims were huge, his face moon-shaped and
pale.

'What's this? What's this?' he boomed, his small brown eyes glinting with what I
took to be ferocity.

'This gentleman rescued the young lady,' said the officer. 'She was being attacked