"David Weber & Linda Evans - Hells Gate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weber David)

"Oh?" Jasak looked across at Magister Kelbryan, once more following along behind Garlath with
him, and his mouth quirked in a humorless smile. "What makes you say that?"
"I could say it's because I'm Gifted, and that I was always good at social analysis spells. Which
happens to be true, actually." Her smile had considerably more amusement in it than his had. "On the
other hand, those spells have always been overrated in the popular press. They work quite well for mass
analyses, like the polling organizations undertake, but they're pretty much useless on the microlevel." She
shrugged. "So instead of falling back on the prestige and reputation of my Gift, I'll just say that he seems a
trifle . . . sullen this morning."
The magister had a pronounced gift for understatement, Jasak reflected. In fact, Garlath's "sullenness"
had communicated itself to his platoon. Sword Harnak had obviously done his best to defuse the worst
of it, but Garlath had made his own air of martyred exasperation only too plain when he ordered his
troopers to assume the formation Jasak had insisted upon. He'd been careful about the actual words he
used, obviously determined to provide the hundred with no overt ammunition if it came to charges of
insubordination. But tone and body language could be remarkably eloquent.
 Jasak had considered making a point of just that. Punishable offenses under the articles of war
included one defined as "silent insubordination," which could certainly be stretched to cover Garlath's
attitude. He was tempted to trot it out—Garlath was busy creating the very situation Jasak had hoped to
avoid by refraining from criticizing him in front of his men—but he resisted the temptation. Whatever else
he might be doing, the fifty was complying, however ungraciously, with the specific instructions he'd been
given.
Of course, he was sending out only a single point man, instead of the entire section Jasak himself
would have assigned. The hundred recognized that as yet another petty defiance, but Garlath had
obviously figured out that Jasak was reluctant to ream him out in front of his men. So the fifty was
challenging him to demand that he change his orders, or to simply overrule him and "usurp" command of
his platoon. And Jasak had been almost overwhelmingly tempted to do just that.
But the very strength of the temptation had warned him that it was born at least as much of anger as
of professional judgment, and anger was not the best basis for making command decisions. Better to wait
until he was certain his own temper wasn't driving him . . . and until he could bring the hammer down as
Garlath deserved without doing any more damage to the platoon's internal discipline while they were in
the field. If there'd been any prospect of running into some sort of opposition, or even any dangerous
predator, it might have been different. But this was a virgin portal. There wouldn't be even the threat of
the frontier brigands or claim jumpers the Army was occasionally called upon to suppress.
"I'm afraid the Fifty and I don't exactly see eye to eye on the proper conduct of a first survey," he
said after a moment, answering the magister with rather more frankness than he'd initially intended.
"And I'm afraid that that's because the Fifty is a frigging idiot," Magister Kelbryan replied tartly.
Jasak blinked in surprise, and she giggled. It was an astonishingly bright, silvery sound, almost as
unexpected as her earthy language had been.
"I'm sorry, Sir Jasak!" she said, her tone genuinely contrite despite the laughter still bubbling in the
depths of her voice. "It's just that Magister Halathyn and I had to put up with him for almost six full days
after your departure, and I've never met a man more invincibly convinced of his own infallibility. Despite,
I might add, the overwhelming weight of the evidence to the contrary."
"I'm afraid it would be quite improper for me to denigrate the abilities of one of my officers, especially
in front of a civilian," Jasak said after a moment.
"And the fact that you feel constrained to say that tells me everything I really need to know, doesn't it,
Hundred?" she asked. He said nothing, only looked at her, smiling ever so faintly, and she giggled again.
Then she eased the straps of her pack across her shoulders, inhaled hugely, and looked up at the crystal
blue patches of autumn sky showing between the dark needles of evergreens and the paint brush glory of
seasonal foliage.
"My, what a magnificent day!" she observed.
Trooper 2/c Osmuna swore under his breath as the rock shifted under his right heel. His left arm