"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 3 - Sword Of Bheleu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

"However, this is not just. We saw, we four, just how low Skelleth had
sunk. There is no longer any reason for us to cower. It is not fitting for us
to do so. Therefore, we shall not. The time has come when the overmen of the
Northern Waste are going to assert themselves once again."
"Have you then decided to start the Racial Wars anew?" The harsh sarcasm
in Saram's tone was unmistakable.
Galt chose to ignore it. "No. We have no wish to commit mass suicide,
either slowly by starvation or quickly by a disastrous war. We had planned to
ride into the market and confront your Baron; we would present our demands,
and he would have no choice but to agree as completely as possible. He would,
of course, be unable to produce Garth. His failure to do so would allow us to
maintain a position of moral superiority in what would otherwise be a case of
outright aggression, and from that position we would dictate terms-the
revocation of Garth's exile, the elimination of all tariffs and restrictions
on trade, and free passage throughout his domain."
"It's a lovely theory."
"Yes, it is. It would have worked, too, had your Baron done his part and
met us in the marketplace yesterday morning. He is no fool; he would have
given in rather than risk a war he could not win."
Saram paused before replying. "It's hard to know," he said, "just what
the Baron would do. He is mad, after all. You have only seen him during a
lucid period. It's his madness that fouled up your whole plan."
"Is it?"
"Of course!"
"Your captain swore by all the gods that the Baron was ill in bed and
could not move or speak. That put us in a very awkward position; we had no
choice but to leave the town and begin our siege. Was he lying?"
"No, he spoke truly, but this is a regular occurrence. Every fortnight
or so the Baron's madness overtakes him, and he sinks into a state of
depression so intense that he cannot speak, cannot stand, cannot feed himself.
Such an attack occurred when word arrived that your company was approaching
Skelleth."
Galt digested this information. "How long will this last?"
"Who knows? It varies. This looks like a bad one; it could be days."
There was a moment of silence, save for the pattering rain, as each
considered his position. Saram was the first to break it.
"Then you will stay until the Baron recovers and meets your demands?"
"Yes. For myself, I was tempted to abandon the whole thing and try again
later, but Kyrith would have none of that. She is quite convinced that her
mate is somewhere within your walls and she has no intention of departing
without him. Most of the warriors are overeager young hotheads who did not
care to give up their chance for glory so easily, and they supported her. This
is the first time in more than three hundred years that the warriors of
Ordunin have been on the offensive, and they like the feel of it."
"I am..." Saram paused, as if reconsidering what he had to say, then
went on, "I am surprised that you have merely besieged us. Why not take
Skelleth by storm?"
Galt snorted. "And start the Racial Wars again? I know little of human
politics; but, while I doubt the High King at Kholis will interfere with trade
negotiations no matter how we carry them out, he can scarcely be expected to