"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 1 - Lure Of The Basilisk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

cooking alive. He considered removing the armor, but did not want to expose
himself to attacks from Shang's hirelings and followers, who might easily be
lurking hidden in the thick plants alongside the road. He compromised by
removing helmet and breastplate, keeping his mail on and perching the helmet
on the saddle in front of him where it could be reached and donned in seconds
should danger threaten.
It was midafternoon when he neared the city gates, and Garth was moving
slowly and cautiously. He was apprehensive, as the untended fields seemed
indicative of something very wrong in Mormoreth. He had passed dry and broken
irrigation ditches and farmers' cottages standing open and empty. Nowhere had
he seen any sign of life. Had he not been told that Shang yet lived and ruled
Mormoreth, he would have taken the city to be deserted. Instead, he was forced
to assume that the population, probably greatly reduced, somehow managed to
survive without ever leaving the city walls. He theorized either vast
stockpiles or some magical means of supplying food.
As he approached the walls he saw several small but comfortable-looking
stone houses built outside the gate, most likely the homes of farmers and
those who dealt closely with farmers-smiths and the like-which also stood
abandoned, with open doors and broken windows. Garth was not surprised; it was
in keeping with the deserted farms. Undaunted, the overman rode directly up to
the western gate, a huge brass-trimmed wooden portal standing at least fifteen
feet in height. The walls themselves were of white marble, clear and unveined
and spotlessly clean, that gleamed in the sun. Garth marveled that mere men
had built such a thing, and wondered that they had used marble instead of the
harder and more common granite. Perhaps the builders had been more concerned
with beauty than efficiency, a thought that bothered Garth with its
implications of affluence; it was not in keeping with the world as he knew it.
After a brief pause to see if the gatekeeper would admit or challenge
him without being hailed, Garth bellowed, "Open!"
His shout echoed faintly from the polished stone walls to either side of
the gate, but elicited no other response. After a decent interval, the overman
called again, with as little result, and finally for a third time.
When this last shout was met with a renewed silence-even the chirping of
birds and insects stilled in response to the noise-Garth slid from his mount's
back, slipped his breastplate and helmet on and pulled his battle-axe from its
boot. Standing braced, his feet well apart, he swung the axe against the
weathered wood of the portal.
The blade buried itself in the oak, spraying splinters to either side,
but the door did not move. Garth pulled it free and prepared for a second
swing, but froze as the sound of laughter trailed down over him from somewhere
above.
Stepping back, he looked up to see a figure atop the battlement, a large
man who seemed somehow to be in shadow despite the bright sunlight that shown
full upon him. With a start, Garth realized that the shadow was in fact the
man's skin color, that the man laughing had skin darker than his own, so dark
as to be almost black. The overman had not known humans came in such a wide
range of hues. He studied this apparition carefully. This curious figure
appeared to be well over six feet tall, and Garth guessed his weight at
perhaps as much as three hundred pounds; he had an immense barrel chest, a
belly to match, and arms and legs as thick as trees. He wore a flowing black