"Ann Maxwell - Concord 3 - Name of a Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

trash clattering.
 Ryth tried mindspeech again, but it was as futile as shouting at the moon. Unease gnawed at him as
Kayle slowed, picking his way among piles of trash that nearly overlapped each other. Abruptly, Ryth
decided that silence presented the greater risk.
“Danger,” called Ryth softly.
Kayle flattened into a recessed doorway and effectively vanished. Ryth felt the Nendleti’s mental
query sweep through him.
*Where?*
*Six kels ahead, just by the cellar. See how the trash closes in? There’s only one way to walk.
Cover your ears and eyes—and don’t move.*
Ryth picked up a stone that was bigger than three clenched fists. He weighed the stone in his hand,
learning its balance, then he closed his eyes and brought his arm around in a powerful throw. The stone
shot through the gloom and landed in front of the Regret on the only piece of ground not covered by
trash.
The alley fractured into noise and light and jagged fragments of trash sent flying by the force of the
bomb. With a long rumble, the cellar called Regret collapsed in upon itself.
*Kayle?*
*I owe you a life, Sharnn.*
*If you want to enjoy it,* returned Ryth dryly, *I’d suggest we leave this wretched trap to its
shadows.*
*Agreed,* came Kayle’s thought after a long hesitation. *Nothing waited here for me but death.*
Ryth sensed Kayle’s mind leaping out in search of something, but could not guess what. At Kayle’s
silent command, Ryth turned and ran back up the choked street, his dulled Sharnn cape invisible in the
dense shadows. In the distance, Sima’s inhabited streets glowed with Mac light.
*Ambush ahead!*
Kayle’s thought sent Ryth diving behind the nearest pile of rubbish. He heard a knife hiss past his ear
and clatter against a sunbrick wall. As he rolled to a new position, he pulled a long-bladed hunter’s knife
from beneath his cape. Then he sensed the attackers closing in and rolled again, just avoiding a steel-toed
kick.
With superb timing, the Sharnn brought his knife up in a thrust that met flesh. A man’s pain echoed
through the narrow street. Ryth sprang up, fighting in darkness, blind but for a sure sense of Kayle’s
presence slicing at the attackers.
*Alive, if possible,* requested Kayle.
Ryth’s answer was to drop and roll through the attackers, hamstringing two who did not move
quickly enough. When he rose to his feet, he felt Kayle at his back. Ryth’s foot shot out, connecting with
a man’s chin. The man was unconscious before he fell to the ground. For a few seconds the narrow alley
was silent, then there was a shadowy rush. Kayle and Ryth lashed out, blows meant to stun rather than
kill. One man remained on his feet, circling them, dodging among the bodies of his fallen comrades in an
apparently random dance. His face glowed as he feinted toward Kayle, bent over another man—and
vanished.
*Can you see him?* demanded Kayle.
*No.* Ryth strained into the darkness.
*He must have hidden his face in his robes!* Kayle’s frustration seared across the Sharnn. *I can’t
even sense his mind!*
Simultaneously, they dove and rolled in opposite directions. Ryth felt the edge of a robe on his knife
and slashed upward. His knife slid away, deflected. The man leaped into darkness and was gone.
Ryth held his breath, listening. At first he heard nothing but his own blood pumping, then came the
faintest sounds of a light-footed man running away. Ryth rolled to his feet and sprinted down the street,
leaping over bodies and rubbish. Ahead the street twisted, then branched at right angles as it emptied
onto two larger streets lit by lilac lights. He saw a glimpse of a dark shadow sliding into throngs of