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

side fell from a noticeably different angle, creating shadows whose shape and direction clashed weirdly
with those of the cool, northern forest in which he stood. Swamp insects bumbled busily towards the
immaterial threshold between worlds, then veered away as they hit the chill breeze blowing back across
it.
This particular portal was relatively young. The theorists were still arguing about exactly how and why
portals formed in the first place, but it had been obvious for better than a hundred and eighty years that
new ones were constantly, if not exactly frequently, being formed. This one had formed long enough ago
that the scores of gigantic trees which had been sliced in half vertically by its creation had become dead,
well dried hulks, but almost a dozen of them still stood, like gaunt, maimed chimneys. It wouldn't be long
before the bitter northern winters toppled them, as well, yet the fact that it hadn't happened yet suggested
that they'd been dead for no more than a few years.
Which, Jasak told himself acidly, was not so very much longer than it appeared to be taking Fifty
Garlath to get his platoon sorted out.
Eventually, however, even Garlath had his troopers shaken down into movement formation. Sort of.
His single point man was too far from the main body, and he'd spread his flank scouts far too wide, but
Jasak clamped his teeth firmly against a blistering reprimand . . . for now. He'd already intended to have a
few words with Garlath about the totally unacceptable delay in getting started, but he'd decided he'd wait
until they bivouacked and he could "counsel" his subordinate in private. With Charlie Company detached
from the Battalion as the only organized force at this end of the transit chain, it was particularly important
not to undermine the chain of command by giving the troops cause to think that he considered their
platoon CO an idiot.
Especially when he did.
So instead of ripping Garlath a new one at the fresh proof of his incompetence, he limited himself to
one speaking glance at Chief Sword Threbuch, then followed along behind Garlath with Threbuch and
Magister Kelbryan.
Although Jasak had enjoyed the privilege of serving with Magister Halathyn twice before, this was
the first time he'd actually met Kelbryan. She and Halathyn had worked together for at least twenty
years—indeed, she was one of the main reasons the UTTTA had acquired the exclusive use of
Halathyn's services in the first place—but she normally stayed home, holding down the fort at the institute
at Garth Showma on New Arcana which Halathyn had created from the ground up for the Authority.
Jasak had always assumed, in a casual sort of way, that that was because she preferred civilization to the
frontier. Or, at least, that she would have been unsuited to hoofing it through rugged terrain with the
Andaran Scouts.
He still didn't know her very well. In fact, he didn't know her at all. She'd only reached their base
camp three weeks earlier, and she seemed to be a very private person in a lot of ways. But he'd already
discovered that his assumptions had been badly off base. Kelbryan was a couple of years older than he
was, and her Ransaran ancestry showed in her almond eyes, sandalwood complexion, and dark,
brown-black hair. At five-eight, she was tall for a Ransaran . . . which meant she was only eight inches
shorter than he was. But delicate as she seemed to him, she was obviously fit, and she'd taken the crudity
of the facilities available at the sharp end of the Authority's exploration in stride, without turning a hair.
She was also very, very good at her job—as was only to be expected, given that Magister Halathyn
must have had his choice of any second-in-command he wanted. Indeed, Jasak had come to realize that
the true reasons she'd normally stayed home owed far less to any "delicacy" on her part than to the fact
that she was probably the only person Magister Halathyn fully trusted to run "his" shop in his absence.
Her academic and research credentials were impressive proof of her native brilliance, and despite the
differences in their cultural heritages, she and her boss were clearly devoted to one another.
It had been obvious Magister Halathyn longed to accompany them this morning, but there were limits
in all things. Jasak was prepared to go along with the fiction that vos Dulainah wasn't far past mandatory
retirement age as long as the old man stayed safely in base camp; he was not about to risk someone that
valuable, or of whom he was so fond, in an initial probe. Magister Kelbryan had supported him with firm