"Lee Killough - The Leopard's Daughter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Killough Lee)

Jeneba sucked in her cheeks. Probably, except that she hoped Mseluku would try. Still, in any case
she had a duty to them. They were her people. "Wasn't it madness when you rode into combat with the
Burdamu outlaw chief Utsaba Akaha with no spear, sword, or shield, only a hobble rope, to show your
contempt for him? These are your people, too, and they would try to save you."
He bowed his head. "Of course you're right. We'll wait until the village is asleep, then slip in and cut
everyone loose."
She settled back in the tree fork to wait.
Not that it was easy. They had to watch the dead warriors disappear into wachiru maws, eaten raw.
Jeneba's fingers bit into the hilt of her sword in her longing to use it on the wachiru. Only self-discipline
kept her silent while the half-men finished their hideous meal and disappeared into their huts. Only when
the village lay quiet did she and Tomo swing down from their perch and stand at the tree's bottom flexing
stiff, numbed limbs until feeling and function returned.
"You have the best night vision," Tomo whispered. "You go first. I'll guard your back."
Jeneba nodded. Sword in one hand, the other gathering her tsara snugly around her hips to keep it
from snagging on something that might betray her to the wachiru, she slid from the deep shadows beneath
the tree and across a pool of moonlight into shadows again beside a wachiru hut. She had to crouch to
keep her head below the level of the roof. The stench of carrion almost overwhelmed her. She listened
for sounds of wachiru still awake, but heard nothing and raced forward, across the space to the inner
circle of huts. There she paused again and glanced back.
Tomo crouched beside the hut she had just left. He waved his sword at her encouragingly.
Breathing deeply, Jeneba faced the village center. She could reach the nearest warrior in a few strides.
Nothing lay between her and the racks but space... space without any cover, faced by every hut in the
circle, and flooded with moonlight.
She sucked in her cheeks. "Mala, Creator, please hide your face. I need darkness for safety."
But Mala ignored the whispered prayer. The moon remained full and bright.
Jeneba sighed. So be it. She located Mseluku across the circle from her. He must be freed first,
however great the danger in reaching him. Glancing backward toward Tomo one last time, she took a
breath, prayed that wachiru slept deeply, and sprinted out through the circle of racks. Her bare feet made
no sound in the dust.
"Jeneba!" someone hissed in surprise.
She paused only long enough to press her fingers across her lips before racing on to where Mseluku
hung tied, his feet barely touching the ground. Jeneba smelled fresh blood where he had been working his
wrists against the bonds holding them to the overhead bar of the rack. His eyes widened at the sight of
her, but he said nothing, only strained to give her room to slide her sword between his wrists and the
bar.
"When I cut you, loose, run for the woods," she breathed in his ear.
He nodded.
She sawed at a strap. It was tough leather, well-tanned. It gave way with agonizing slowness. One of
Mseluku's wrists finally came free, however. She was starting on the other when a whoop of alarm tore
through the night air. Jeneba abandoned caution to swing the sword overhand like an axe and chop at the
strap around the crossbar. "Follow me, uncle; we'll come back for the others later." She bolted for the
space between the nearest huts.
A wachiru leaped into her path. She cut him down with a sweep of her blade and jumped his writhing
body. A second half-man appeared out of invisibility and a third, catching her tsara. Slashing their arms,
she tore free of those too. Then she was between the second row of huts and into the woods.
She looked back for Mseluku but to her horror, could see him nowhere. A handful of howling wachiru
followed her instead, covering the ground in incredibly long hops.
The blood went fiery cold in her veins. Jeneba stretched into the long-strided run the warriors
practiced every day along with wrestling and swordsmanship. Her pursuers did not fall behind, though.
They gained. When they were far enough from the village that the wachiru could not expect endless