"Paul B.Thompson, Tonya R.Carter. Darkness and Light ("DragonLance Preludes I" #1) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

had the bad fortune of always losing parts of himself in
battle - an eye, an arm, half an ear. Pretty ugly he was, and
mean! I walked into his camp, sure of my skill with a blade.
In those days, I had to pretend to be a boy, else the churls
would have ganged up on me," she said.
"How does one go about getting hired as a mercenary?"
"In Mikkian's band, there was only one way: kill one of
his men. Mikkian had only so many openings on his pay-
roll, and he wouldn't expand it for anybody." Kitiara wrin-

kled her nose at the memories conjured up by Mikkian.
"Worthless rogue! The foot soldiers made a big ring and put
me in it with a snaggletoothed axeman called - now what
was his name? First man I ever killed. Trigneth? Drigneth?
Some name like that. So we went at it, axe against sword. It
was not a pretty fight, I tell you. We had to stay in the dead
center of the ring, or Mikkian's boys would poke us with
daggers and spear points. Trigneth - Drigneth? - fought
like a woodcutter, chop, chop, chop. He never laid an edge
on me. I got him with a straight thrust, right through the
neck." She regarded Sturm. He looked shocked.
"How long were you with Mikkian's company?" he
asked, finally.
"Twelve weeks. We sacked a walled town near Takar, and
Mikkian finally lost a part he couldn't do without." Sturm
raised an eyebrow. "His head," said Kitiara. "That was the
end of the Marauders. It was every man for himself, and the
whole company broke up, looting and killing. The towns-
folk rose up and fought back, wiping out the whole damn
gang. Save for yours truly." She smiled crookedly.
Kitiara had a deep fund of such stories, all exciting and
nearly all bloody. Sturm found himself confused. He'd
known her for about two years now and was no closer to
understanding her. This handsome, bright woman pos-
sessed no small measure of wit and charm, and yet was
enamored with war on its basest level. He had to admit he
marveled at her strength and cunning - but he feared Kiti-
ara a little, too.
The road petered into a path, and after a score of miles it
merged into a stretch of sandy pine barrens. The air grew
still and heavy with moisture. They camped in the barrens
that night, and the wind gave them their first smell of the
sea.
Pine knots made an acrid, smoky campfire. As Kitiara fed
the flames, Sturm watered the horses. He returned to the
dim circle of firelight and squatted on the sand. Kitiara
handed him a cold mutton joint. Sturm gnawed the pep-
pered meat, and Kitiara leaned back, her feet to the fire and
her head pillowed by her bedroll.
"There's Paladine," she said. "See?" She pointed to the