"Kim Hunter - [The Red Pavillions 02] - Wizard's Funeral v1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kim Hunter - [The Red Pavillions 02] - Wizard's Funeral)

Soldier was informed that he was to report to Captain Kaff within the hour.
He went to his wife’s chambers, to see if she recognised him.
She did.
‘You bastard,’ she spat. ‘Come to gloat over me in my madness, have you?’
She was hunched up in one corner of her great bed — a bed he seldom shared these days - the sheets knotted round her frail, diminutive form. His heart bled for her in her distress. Her face — normally animated and quite beautiful since the scars had gone — was screwed into a malevolent expression that filled him with disquiet. Soldier knew it was useless to argue with her. He simply bade her farewell.
‘I must go away on the queen’s business,’ he said. ‘I’ll return as soon as I can.’
Ofao, also in the room, had to restrain his mistress as she leapt towards Soldier with her hands like claws, her nails ready to rake his face.
‘Yes, go! You can’t wait to get away from me, can you? Are you bedding my sister? Does the queen demand your body between her sheets? You must be laughing at me, the pair of you. The foolish Princess Layana, whose husband fucks the queen.’
‘Your sister is as concerned for your welfare as I am,’ said Soldier. ‘There is nothing between us. In your heart you know that. I am going away to fetch the new King Magus and install him in his mountain palace. I will return as soon as possible.’
‘Why come back?’ she cried, savagely, struggling with Ofao’s firm grip. ‘Why bother to return?’ Her face was a vicious mask. ‘You know I hate you. Why would you want to come back to a wife who thinks you are dirt?’
He made the usual mistake of trying to reason with her, when rationality had already flown like escaping birds.
‘You say that now, but when — when you are normal, you tell me you love me.’
She smiled, nastily. ‘I only tell you that to unsettle you, to give you false confidence. This is my normal self. This is how I really feel. How could I love a man like you? You’re a freak,-a creature with blue eyes. No other creature - man, beast, bird - has blue eyes. And who are you? You do not know your name, you have no memory of your past, and you arrived here with nothing but a few scraps of armour. You can’t possibly believe that I, a princess, could love a nobody ...’
Soldier left the room quickly, before she could go on. Layana in her madness had the power to agitate him to the very roots of his soul. Seven times in the past year she had tried to murder him in the night. His scabbard, which sang out a warning when he was being attacked, was the only thing which had kept him alive. Sintra was the gold-thread name on his scabbard and it sheathed a sword named Kutrama, though he had arrived in this world with only the former, the latter having been lost somewhere on the way.
Soldier went now to his own chambers and dressed himself in light armour, not forgetting the warhammer he had wrested from an attacking Hannack. The last time he had sgen Uthellen and her son they were hiding in a forest to the north. On his journey there Soldier might be attacked by Hannacks, or any other bands of brigands roaming the wastelands and countryside.
One thing he had discovered about himself was a deepseated rage which erupted during moments of battle, so that he was known as one of the most savage lighters this world had ever encountered. He was appalled by his own barbarity at such times. The overwhelming feeling of vicious hatred which surged through him was as frightening to him as it was to his enemies and watchers. He wondered where it came from, what had happened to him for it to be there in the first place.
‘One of these days I shall find myself,’ he thought, ‘and I have no doubt I won’t like who lies within.’
Armed, he went forth to Captain Kaff’s quarters, where the Imperial Guardsman awaited him.
Kaff was one of Soldier’s greatest enemies. Soldier had cut off one of the captain’s hands in a duel. Now the captain fitted live creatures onto the stump that was his wrist. Today it was a sparrow-hawk. The effect was alarming. The raptor remained still on the silver-banded stump, with folded wings, unless Kaff reached forward, whereupon it spread its wings, flashed its talons, and raked the air with its hooked beak.
‘There is a horse waiting for you at the gates,’ Kaff explained. ‘I have arranged that myself and a company of men will ride with you. You will need protection in open country. There are Hannacks about.’
‘I’ll go alone,’ said Soldier.
Kaff stared at him, the hawk fluttering. ‘You are a fool — as usual.’
Soldier ignored the insult. ‘I’ll take Spagg with me.’
There was a snorting sound from Kaff. ‘A lot that idiot can do to help if you’re attacked by wolves, or worse.’
‘Nevertheless.’
A shrug from the other. ‘Suit yourself.’
‘And stay away from my wife.’
It was well known that Kaff was in love with Layana — had been even before the arrival of Soldier — and visited her often as a friend and advisor. In the old days Kaff had done nothing about his feelings of devotion for the princess because he had deemed himself unworthy. Then this nobody, this riff-raff from some war in an unknown place, had arrived and married her within a few short weeks. Kaff had been more than incensed. He was almost prepared to sacrifice the life of the new King Magus - wars, pestilence and famine come if they had to — if it meant that Soldier would die too.
Kaff said, stiffly, ‘The Princess Layana has need of my services from time to time.’
‘If you try to seduce her, I’ll kill you. Captain of the Imperial Guard or not.’
Kaff smiled. ‘You are assuming that this is possible, of course.’
‘It’ll be a great deal easier now I’ve taken one of your hands,’ snapped Soldier.
The smile instantly evaporated and Kaff’s lips curled.
‘One of these days . . .’he muttered, gripping his sword-hilt.
‘Just keep to your own bedroom, Kaff, and respect the rights of a husband.’
With that, Soldier left the captain’s quarters and made his way to the market square.
A raven landed on Soldier’s shoulder as he strode along.
‘Well, well, still causing mayhem with the Guthrum army, are we?’ said the raven. ‘Still managing to volunteer for these suicidal missions? Got a death-wish, have we?’
‘You can shut up, too,’ muttered Soldier, worried that someone would hear him talking to a bird and think him mad.
‘Oh, I can shut up - or I can chatter to my heart’s content. I think that’s up to me, isn’t it? I’m entitled to my opinion of you, which is as low as it always has been. Soldier the hero? Soldier the moron. You could get killed out there, you know. Why didn’t you take up the offer of an escort?’
‘Where were you hiding?’ muttered Soldier. ‘Up the chimney?’
‘Just outside the window, actually.’
‘You want to be careful you don’t finish up on the end of Raff’s wrist one of thfese days. And as to the escort — I’ve more to fear from them than I have from a bunch of rogue dragons. There’d be a danger of waking up every morning with my throat cut. I prefer to go with just Spagg. He has his faults but at least he’s scared stiff of me. Kaff has nothing but contempt for my skills as a warrior. He thinks he’s better. What are you going to do? Will you trail along?’
If the raven could have wrinkled his beak in distaste, he would have done. ‘With that stinking bag of dung, Spagg? Not on your life. Think I’ll stay here and pick a few locks with my beak. There’s no larders out in open country. I’ve got my stomach to think of, I have.’
The bird flew off.
At this time of day the market-place was thriving. In one corner of the square, vegetables. In another, meat. On the north-east corner, livestock — shuffling, snuffling, dropping today’s wet turds onto yesterday’s dried turds. The last corner was where frauds and gullible buyers met, along with eccentrics and those struck by lunar rays: fortune-tellers, physicians (as if anybody could cure anyone of anything!), gem-sellers, ivory-dealers, sellers of curios and carvings, and Spagg.
Spagg was a purveyor of dead men’s hands. Not just men either, but women kill mostly for love and men mostly for money, and there is more money than love in the world. Once the murderers were hanged Spagg had a licence to cut off their hands and sell them as hands-of-glory: hands with magical properties, such as the power of invisibility. There were many unsatisfied customers, but Spagg always told them magic required belief and it was their lack of faith that was the cause of the failure, not the hands-of-glory themselves.
‘What?’ cried the short, hairy man as Soldier approached. Spagg saw the look in Soldier’s eyes. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘No, no, no. I went with you once before, but I ain’t goin’ again. I was lucky to get back with my skin and good eye intact. I ain’t goin’ to risk it a second time.’
‘You haven’t got any choice,’ replied Soldier, firmly. ‘Unless you’d rather explain your reluctance to the Queen’s Torturer?’
Spagg picked up a rather blue hand with swollen knuckles and threw it down hard on the table.