"Eric van Lustbader - Sunset Warrior 1 - The Sunset Warrior" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lustbader Eric van)

The Chondrin goggled at him, stretching his neck forward like a reptile about
to strike, and
two spots of colour appeared high on his cheeks, accentuating the whiteness of
the pockmarks.
'Where are your manners, Student?' he said menacingly. 'Speak with deference
to your betters.
Now answer the question.'
Ronin's hand strayed to the hilt of his sword but he said nothing.
'Well,' sneered the Chondrin, 'it appears this Student is in need of a
lesson.' As if the words
were a signal, the Bladesmen rushed at Ronin. Too late he realized that he
could not draw his
sword rapidly within the confines of the crowd. Then they were piling into
him, the sheer force
of their combined weight bearing him to the ground, and he thought, I do not
believe this is
happening. Instinctively he kicked out as he was borne under, and had the
satisfaction of
feeling his boot smash into flesh that gave way. Almost at the same moment, a
blow along the
side of his head disrupted his enjoyment. Adrenalin spurted and he punched up
and out, and
even though he was on his back and the leverage was not there, he felt his
fist connect as it split
open skin, cracked into bone. He heard a brief wail.
Then the boot caught him in the side and a thick gauze came down over his
brain. He tried to
hit again, could not, struggled with an enormous weight on his chest. His
lungs were on fire
and he felt ashamed. When the boot hit him again, he passed out . . .
The wave of pain came again but this time he had it under control and there
was only the
slightest movement. He looked at the wide head bent over him with its shaggy
brows, rheumy
eyes, and creased forehead.
'Ach!' exclaimed the Medicine Man, as much to himself as to Ronin. 'What have
you been
up to, ah?' He shook his head and, without looking at
Ronin, turned and put a dark, furry cloth against the mouth of an opaque
white-glass bottle, and
turned it upside down. He applied the cloth to Ronin's side. It was cold and
the pain subsided.
'So. Dress and come inside.' He threw the cloth over the back of a hard chair
and disappeared
through a doorway. Ronin sat up, his side stiff but now without pain, pulled
on his leggings and
shirt, then his low leather boots. He stood to strap on his sword, then
followed in the wake of
Stahlig's body into a warmly lighted cubicle in sharp contrast to the starkly
geometrical surgery