"Norton, Andre - No night without stars" - читать интересную книгу автора (Andre Norton)

alleyway so narrow that Rhin crowded him with a furry shoulder as they padded on
together.
The walls of logs Sander saw were thick and there were only openings set very
high, nearly masked by the overhanging eaves, part of the sharply-pitched roofs.
He reached the end of the alley and turned right before he saw any entrance
door.
It had been fashioned of heavy planking. Now it hung crazily from a single
hinge, plainly having been forced open. Rhin snarled, his tongue sweeping out
over his lips. There was a body just within that broken door; between the
shoulders was a splotch of clotted blood. The villager lay face downward and
Sander had no desire to turn him over. The stranger was not wearing the leather
and furs of a Mobsman, rather a coarsely woven overtunic dyed a nut brown. And
his legs were encased in baggy trousers of the same material, laced hide boots
on his feet. For a long moment Sander hesitated before he stepped gingerly
around the dead man into an interior that showed both search and wanton
destruction.
There was another huddle of twisted body and stained clothing in the corner.
Sander, after a single glance, kept his eyes resolutely from it. Smashed and
near destroyed as the contents of this room were, he could still see that the
town dwellers had possessed more worldly goods than any Mobsman. That was only
sensible in their way of life. One could not cart chairs, tables, and chests
about the land when one was ever traveling to follow the herds. He stopped to
pick up a broken bowl, intrigued by the design across its side. It was only a
few dark lines against the clear brown of the pottery, but, as he studied them,
he could envision birds in flight.
He made his way quickly to the food bins, wanting no more of this chamber of the



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dead. Rhin whined from without. Sander caught the uneasiness of his companion,
the need to be gone. But he made himself examine what was left There was a
measure of grain flour mixed with chopped and powdered nut meats. Using the
broken bowl for a scoop he packed it into his provision bag. He found two dried
fish wedged in another over-turned bin. But the rest had been deliberately
wasted or wantonly befouled. He was sickened by the signs of relentless hatred
he could sense in the room as he hurried out to join Rhin.
Yet Sander made himself approach the next building also. Here again was a forced
door but with no body nearly blocking it. However, one glance at what lay inside
made him gag and turn hastily away. He could not go any nearer to that. It
seemed that the raiders, whoever they might have been, had not been content to
kill, but had also taken time to amuse themselves in a beastly fashion. Sander
kept on swallowing to control his nausea as he backed out into the way that
fronted the unfired buildings.
There was one other place he must search for--in spite of his growing terror of
this ravaged village. There must have been a smith's forge somewhere. He slapped
his hands against the bag of tools that was lashed to the back of Rhin's riding
pad. What he carried there was all he had from his father. Ibbets would have