"Hambly,.Barbara.-.Darwath.2.-.Walls.Of.Air.e-txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

"But their eggs?" Tirkenson went on. "How do the Dark Ones breed, Ingold? As
Gil-Shalos said, it would need only one to go through the air tunnels, laying
eggs like a salmon along the way. We could be sitting on top of a spawning
ground of the Dark." Though the Guards were not as a rule nervous people, a
ripple of horror seemed to pass through the assembled captains. The instructor
Gnift shuddered and exchanged a quick, worried look with Melantrys.
"You needn't concern yourselves with that, at least," Ingold said quietly. He
picked a bit of straw from the frayed sleeve of his mantle and avoided all their
eyes. "I have seen the breeding places of the Dark beneath the ground, and I
assure you that they do not multiply in any fashion so—tidy—as that." He looked
up again, his face carefully calm. "But in any case, we cannot allow the Dark
entrance under any circumstances. The corridors must be patrolled."
"We can get Church troops," Janus said, "and Alwir's private guards."
"I have my own men," Tirkenson added, rising. "The lot of us can take the south
side of the Aisle."
"Good." Ingold stood and lifted his head to search the faces of those crowded
into the narrow barracks, seeking someone in the uncertain yellow light. "I
doubt that the Dark will be able to breach the walls themselves, but if they do,
we must know it."
"Can we know?" Melantrys straightened her sword belt, glancing up at him with
chill black eyes. "The Dark can swallow a man's soul or blood or flesh between
one heartbeat and the next, a yard from his fellows, before he can cry out."
"A Guard?" Ingold inquired mildly.
She bridled. "Of course not."
"There you are." He picked up his staff, his shadow looming behind him like the
echo of the darkness waiting beyond the gates of the Keep. Once more he scanned
the room, the figures there fading into milling confusion of preparation and
departure. It might have been a trick of the firelight, but the lines seemed
deeper in that calm and nondescript face. Whether this was from weariness,
apprehension, or sheer annoyance, Gil could not tell.
All around them men and women were slinging on swords and finding cloaks; voices
called to one another through the dark, narrow doors of the barracks. The air
seemed somehow heavier, the fear in it as palpable as electricity; if she had
touched Ingold's cloak, Gil thought, sparks would have jumped from the fabric.
Janus remained for a moment at Ingold's side, towering over him, his
broken-nosed, pug face grave.
"That is for the corridors," he said quietly. "What of the gates?"
"Yes," Ingold said. "The gates. I feel that is where they will concentrate their
attack. But with the height of the ceiling in the Aisle, once inside they can
strike from above, and ground defense will be almost useless."
"I know," Janus said softly. "They'll have to be fought in the gate tunnel
itself, won't they?"
"Maybe," the wizard replied. "Gil—I shall need your help at the gates." Then he
frowned and cast a swift, raking glance over the remaining Guards. Bright azure
eyes hooded like a falcon's glittered in the shadows. "And where," he asked
grimly, "is Rudy?"
At the moment, it was the question uppermost in Rudy's mind as well.
He knew he was still somewhere on the second level; but that was about all he
could be sure of. Having missed the turning for the stairway he sought, he had
tried to double back along an allegedly parallel corridor, with disastrous