"Barbara Hambly - Sun Wolf 2 - Witches of Wenshar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

pursuit, until their captain raised his hand and called them back.
"It's useless-don't get yourselves killed over it!" He reined up
before Starhawk and the man beside her, the man she now recognized
as Osgard from the tavern. The horseman stepped from his saddle with
surprising grace for a man of his bulk. "Are you hurt, my lord?"
"By the Three, that was fighting!" Osgard flung an approving arm
around Sun Wolf as he came up to them, the heavy sheepskin of his
jerkin marked with a sword slash, but apparently unwounded himself.
"You never saw the like, Nanciormis! This bastard had them running
like rats-like rats!" Standing that close to him, Star-hawk could smell,
under the reek of the blood that smeared them all, stale alcohol in his
sweat.
As tall as Osgard and Sun Wolf, the rider Nanciormis had the
swarthy skin and aquiline features of the shirdar. What had once been a
hawk-like beauty was blurred by a padded layer of fat. "My lord ... "
The other riders were closing in around them, and the torches they bore
threw glints of gold on the clips that held back his waist-length black
hair. "I've warned you before about going about the town so,
unprotected and with no state ... "
"State, hell," grumbled Osgard, bending to wipe his sword on the
black robe of one of the fallen bandits and sheathing it at his side. His
voice had lost its drunken slur-there's nothing like fighting for your life,
thought Starhawk, to induce instant sobriety. "It wasn't state that got
me crowned King of Wenshar."
Starhawk's glance cut sharply to Sun Wolf. She saw that he wasn't
surprised.
"It was men like Norbas Milkom and Quaal Ambergados-miners
and fighters, men who know the land. Men like ... " Osgard turned and
regarded Sun Wolf with an arrested eye. "I know you," he said.
Sun Wolf nodded. "Likely you do, your Majesty."
"Not just from the tavern ... " The green eyes narrowed. "You're
Sun Wolf. The mercenary of Wrynde. We hired you-what ... ?"
"Last war but one with Dalwirin," Sun Wolf provided.
 "Old Shilmarne was leading her forces down the passes ... "
"By the Three, that was it!" The King slapped Sun Wolf
enthusiastically on the back, then staggered. He'd taken a thigh wound,
and blood was still tracking stickily down the leg of his breeches. Sun
Wolf and Starhawk caught him as his knees gave way, Nanciormis
springing belatedly to help.
Osgard made an impatient move to push them off. "I'm fine ... "
"The hell you are," Sun Wolf rasped. He pulled from some inner
pocket the silk scarf he'd long ago learned to keep handy and tied it
around Osgard's leg above the wound. With the hilt of one of the
hideout daggers in his boot, he twisted it tight. In the yellow glare of the
torchlight, the King's face had gone suddenly waxen as the heat of
battle died from his veins. "There a sawbones up at the fortress?"
Nanciormis nodded. "Can you sit a horse, my-"
"Of course I can sit a horse!" Osgard blustered furiously. "Just
because I took a little scratch doesn't mean I'm going to go to pieces
like some sniveling, weakling coward ... " His sandy eyebrows stood