"Barbara Hambly - A Night with the Girls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

She sprang sideways, coughing, drowning, water forcing itself into her nose, her mouth.
Water surged around her, slowing her steps, dragging her back, water that shrieked in her e
and blinded her eyes and ripped and tore at her hands.

Battlesow yanked her out of the maelstrom by main force and dragged her in the directio
the pyre, a riptide heaving and pulling at their feet, slowing them while the cresting, thrashi
waterspout pursued them through the camp. Coughing, Starhawk gasped, "Don't let anybody
else help me! I know what I'm doing!"
 Back at the convent I'd have been doing pennance till Yule for a lie like that.

The pyre lay ahead of them. Teryne and a group of the mercenaries grouped around it, m
and women dangerously quiet, muttering. Like Battlesow, they were perfectly willing to fac
war and weapons but not the vileness of black magic in the dark. Too many had seen the he
and faces of the dead the wight had absorbed, and rumor was running fast. Barely able to
breathe and half-blinded by spray, Starhawk saw on the pyre the thing she had sent Teryne
get, a burlap sack containing what appeared to be a collection of rags and sticks. The unfire
wood glittered in the orange glare of the flaming brand in Terynes hand, and the smell of Bl
Ruin, the cheap mere gin manufactured by Bron the quartermaster and his wife Opium, almo
drowned the charnel stink of the wight. Starhawk wondered what the hell Bron had charged
them for the gin. Knowing Bron-or more specifically knowing Opium-she was certain it had
been free.

The drag on her feet increased and she felt the spattering of spray on the back of her nec
heard the rattling, metallic roar in her ears. She stumbled, the pressure of the water incredib
strong, dropped her useless sword to yank from her belt the two brown fragments of tooth,
closing them tight in her fist against the cold suction. "Torch it!" she yelled, and Teryne thru
the fire into the pyre's wood.

The alcohol-soaked tinder caught in a searing explosion of white heat, and in that second
Starhawk flung the teeth. The waterspout roared over her, throwing her to the soaked mud.
second explosion as the water struck the superhot flame, and billowing steam, scalding,
flame-colored itself in the glare. Printed incandescent on her eyes, Starhawk had a vision o
sorry little sack on top of the pyre being consumed.

Then there was only a mush of coals and embers, white scarves of steam floating sullen
over the charred jumble of wood.

The sack was gone.

The wight was gone.

Starhawk got to her feet, covered with mud as if she'd been dipped in it and soaked to th
skin. Her knees shook and she reached out, holding Butcher's arm for support. Elia, soaked
also-all of them were wet as if they'd just been dragged up from the bottom of the sea-starte
ask something, but Starhawk caught her eye and shook her head.

On the edge of the crowd of mercenaries, Prince Chare and Mayor Cornmonger stood
staring at the steam-wreathed pyre, the sodden ashes in disbelief.