"S. L. Viehl - Red Branch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Viehl S. L)

1


Red Branch


by S.L. Viehl


I didn’t like waking up with a three hundred pound merc sitting on me
and holding a knife to my throat. Even if I had foreseen it the night before.
“Got yer tension now, do we?” The weighty, smelly human tucked the
edge of his blade a little higher up under my chin, scraping off some skin in the
process. “Be gibbin us ‘at web we bin wannin, eh?”
One of Ferboil Danu’s men. They never bathed, and wore badly-cured
skins of animals over their tunicas. This one appeared uniformly coated with
dirt and sported the furs from a dozen snow rabbits. The poor things had
probably smelled him approaching and expired on the spot.
Still, he had captured my attention, and I was in the mood to be
charitable. “Get off, rot breath, and I’ll let you live.”
Blood ran down the sides of my neck as the blade bit deeper. “I gots the
steel here, spinner.”
He was too dumb to be a messenger, really, but Ferboil must have
figured on me killing whoever he sent. “You have five seconds.” I yawned.
“Four.”
He lifted up, angling the knife so that the point rested against my pulse
vein. “Marsta Danu wans a web.”
“Three.” I glanced at the window. It was barely dawn. I might have to
hunt down Ferboil just for waking me up before noon. “Two.”
“I said – ”
“Time’s up.” I spit in his eyes and slammed my cupped palms against his
ears. At the same time, I hit his hand with my chin and drove my knee up into
his groin. He screamed, fell back, and the knife slipped onto the bed.
The root I’d chewed before going to sleep lent a temporary acidity to my
saliva, which had no effect on me but was quite corrosive to the merc’s human
eyes. It also saved me from wasting my poisons on a moron. I kicked him to
the floor, stretched, and then retrieved the knife. It was as filthy as my attacker,
so I’d have to remember to clean my neck wound well. I tucked it in my
armband and went to the fireplace to start brewing my morning tea.
“Whaddaya done?” the behemoth shrieked, clawing at his eyes with both
hands. “Blinded me! Yer blinded me!”
Someone pounded at the door. “Spinner?”
 2


It was Kerdup, the innkeeper. I sighed as I went over and saw that my
latest victim had practically hacked the door latch to pieces getting in.
Humans. I tugged at the remnants. “Yes?”
Kerdup looked a bit like a nest weasel, minus the handsome parts.
“What’s all this noise about, then?” He was about as shrill, too.