"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 18 - Warlords of Gaikon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

stomach from giving off a rumble like a tank engine.
There was a mat in one corner of the kitchen. Blade sat down cross-legged on it. Strains, sprains,
and bruises protested as he did so. He realized that he would have to get thoroughly thawed out, and
fast. Otherwise he would be stiff enough tomorrow to be slowed down in a fight. That could be fatal.
The curtain across the door leading into the main area of the house was pushed open, and a young
woman came in with a stack of dirty dishes. Blade's eyes flickered across her, recognizing her as one of
the women by the stream, scanning her for any sign that she suspected anything. But she bowed as the
old woman had done when she saw the blue robe, then she murmured, "The house of the Honorable
Captain Jawai is honored by your presence, dabuno."
Blade merely nodded graciously. Then the old woman came over with a lacquered tray holding a
bowl of soup, a bowl of meat and vegetables, and a large plate of coarse, whitish porridge. The only
eating utensils visible were six-sided lacquered sticks, enough like chopsticks so that Blade could use
them easily. He dug into the food with no effort to conceal his hunger. Perhaps the dabuni were supposed
to be ascetics who picked at their food, but at the moment he didn't care. He could argue that or any
other point much better with a full meal in his stomach.
Neither of the women made any comment on the rate at which Blade emptied his tray, nor raised an
eyebrow when he asked for more. The young woman only asked, "Do you also wish saya?"
Whatever that was, it sounded alcoholic. Blade shook his head. After a long and exceptionally
exhausting day that might still end violently, he wanted to stay absolutely sober.
"Ah, I see you have taken the dem vow as well as becoming a Lonely Brother," said the older
woman. "Then you will not wish to meet the Honorable Captain Jawai?"
Blade had been wondering how to get out of going through any social formalities with the master of
the house. But now the woman had just presented him with what seemed like a ready-made excuse.
"Yes, I have taken the dem vow." The paint on his skin was beginning to itch. He pulled the robe half
off his left shoulder and rubbed vigorously. He would have to ask for some turpentine or something to get
this muck off before long.
The girl's eyes widened at the width and muscles of Blade's chest. The old woman noticed where the
girl was looking and slapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Don't make eyes at a Lonely Brother who has
taken the dem vow, Kika. He's not for you." Blade decided he should nod again at those words. "Now
go and tell the Honorable Captain about our guest."
Kika vanished through the curtain, still looking back at Blade. Blade looked at his empty tray,
considered whether he should eat any more, and decided against it. The food and the warmth would be
making him feel sleepy before long.
Blade's tray had barely touched the mats on the floor when a sharp, shrill scream sounded from
farther inside the house. Then the girl's voice—" No, Honorable Master, please. I did not know!"—the
sound of two hard blows, another scream, and the thud of a falling body.
Blade was on his feet before the first scream died away, his eyes flickering around the room for a
safe spot and a weapon of some sort. One leap carried him into the opposite corner, where he had both
flanks protected by heavily timbered walls. As he moved he snatched up the poker leaning against the
hearth. Then before the old woman could move or even open her mouth for a scream of her own, he
scooped up her carving knife with the other hand.
He had barely regained his safe corner when more noises came from inside the house. First the
clatter of falling trays, and bowls, then the fussing sound of a sword being drawn, finally the thud of
fast-moving feet heading toward the kitchen. Blade crouched low, raised the poker to guard, and held
the carving knife ready to thrust.
A moment later the curtain flew open, and another man in a blue robe burst into the kitchen. Both
hands held a curved, yard-long sword above his head. The light shimmered on the flawlessly polished
steel, and another kind of light gleamed in his eyes. It was the light of an almost maniacal determination to
kill or die.
Blade had braced himself physically for an attack. Now he quickly braced himself mentally for a fight