"Henry Lion Oldie. Fragments of novels in english translation" - читать интересную книгу автора

put forward his empty left hand at the same time lifting his left leg so
that his knee became close to his chin.
Thus a statue of the dancing bird Fon with stretched wings (the
right one being twice longer than the left and glittering in the sun)
appeared in front of the stone tower with a steep dome.
It is much more difficult and tiresome to stand long on one foot
(while No-Datchi's Carrier stood on both) but I was perfectly sure of our
success. Not in vain we used to stay so many times at our courtyard with
a cup of hot wine put on the uplifted knee of Carrier Chan and it was
long ago that he learned not to spill the wine. The spectators on the
stands were silent, dumb-stricken with bewilderment; the sun was moving
slowly from east to west, our shadows at the ground grew longer, but we
were still standing, and only when the spire over the tower waved a
little I allowed Chan -- the Bird -- to clasp his wings triumphantly and
use his both feet.
After that the two-hand lightning came down on me.
Escaping from the first collision and putting rather a safe distance
between us I understood that No-Datchi will now act only when sure of
success. Having lost the competition in immobility and remembering that
the straps of sandals were cut, it would afford no disputable,
unnecessary movements... Well, I was glad for him. And for myself too.
For it meant that the time has come to use the family skills of the
Straight Swords Dan Ghiens. The time for the deeds that once made me
prefer the House of Unkors of Whay to all other Houses of Carriers.
No-Datchi's Carrier jumped forward impetuously and No-Datchi itself
sprang up, halted for a moment trying to realize what's going on.
Carrier Chan was laughing. He was laughing joyfully and sincerely
and then stretched his left hand in front of him groping the air as if
seeking something invisible for everybody except himself. And he found
that thing.
No-Datchi didn't move, his tip quivering with cautious impatience.
The fingers of Carrier Chan tattooed at the invisible shelf and clenched
forming a ring -- as if he had taken a cup.
...No-Datchi's Carrier shuffled his feet impatiently crushing the
grass, but No-Datchi didn't change its position. I sank to the ground
looking as limp as I could. My edge almost touched a pebble lying on the
ground.
...And No-Datchi couldn't contain itself any longer and made a
stroke. It struck inevitably like an attacking cobra, it was sure of
success and stopped close to the head of Carrier Chan who was still
laughing. It was the highest grade of Mastery of Control for a two-hand
sword.
More exactly, it stopped at the point where Chan's head has just
been. For Carrier Chan has brought the invisible cup to his lips just at
the moment when the stroke fell, and he bent back drinking the invisible
liquor. So his head shifted by one fourth of No-Datchi's length. And it
suffised.
At the same time Chan waved awkwardly his right hand trying to keep
his balance. And I happened to be in that hand -- oh, quite casually! And
my blade set without effort against the armpit of No-Datchi's Carrier.