"Walter Jon Williams - Woundhealer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Walter John)

Lord Landry had found her.

The loot had been shared out earlier, the common soldiers paid off. Now Landry
hosted a dinner for his lieutenants, the veterans of his many descents onto the
plains below, and the serjeants of his own household.

The choicest bit of booty was Lord Landry's new sword, won in the battle, a long
magnificent patterned blade, straight and beautiful. Norward had found the
thing, apparently, but his father had taken it for his own.

"In the hospital!" Landry called. His voice boomed out above the din in the long
hall. "He found the sword in the hospital, when we were cutting our way through
their camp! It must have belonged to one of their sick-well," bellowing a laugh,
"we helped their shirkers and malingerers on to judgment, so we did!"

Derina gazed at her untouched meal and let her father's loud triumph roll past


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unheeded. This war sounded like all the others, a loud recitation of cunning and
twisting diplomacy and the slaughter of helpless men. Landry did not find glory
in battle, but rather in plunder: he would show up late to the battlefield,
after giving both sides assurances of his allegiance, and then be the first to
sack the camp of the loser. Sometimes he would loot the camp without waiting for
the battle to be decided.

"What does Norward need with a blade such as this?" he demanded. "His third
campaign, and as yet unblooded."

"M-my beast fell," Norward stammered. He turned red and fought his disobedient
tongue. "T-tripped among the, the tent lines."

"Ta-ta-tripped in the ta-ta-tents!" Landry mocked. "Your riding's as defective
as your speech. As your blasted weak eyes. Can't kill a man?-I'll leave my land
to a son who can." He gave a savage grin. "I was a younger son-but did it stop
me?"

Reeve smirked into his cup. Lord Landry had been loud in the praise of his
younger son's willingness to run down and slay the helpless boys and old men
who'd guarded the enemy camp.

Reeve was strong, Derina thought, and Norward weak. What had her own feelings to
do with it?

Landry put the sword in its sheath, then hung it behind his chair, above the
great fireplace, in place of his old blade. He turned and looked over his
shoulder at his family. "None of you touch it, now!"