[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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He did not. He peeled aside the ruined window and peered into a dark
room
containing neither bed nor person. Mindful of his punctured and
lacerated
buttock, he went in. There was nothing to do about his head. He had, after all,
been strangled to death. Or come so close that the difference wasn't worth
considering -save that he was alive, which was absolutely all the difference
that mattered.
After a long measured while of standing frozen, listening, staring in effort to
make his eyes see, he moved. He heard nothing. No groan, no movement, no
rain.
The moon was back. It was not in line with the window, but it was up there
and a
little light sneaked in to aid a thief.
He found a wall, a jamb. Squatted, then went lower, wincing at rearward
pain, to
ensure that no light showed under the door. The latch was a simple press-
down
hook. He took his time depressing it. He took more time in slowly, slowly
pulling open the door. It revealed a corridor or short hall.
While he wondered whether to go right or leftward, that ghastly sound of
agony
came again. This time a pulpy mumble underlay the moaning groan, and once
again
Hanse felt the icy, antsy touch of gooseflesh.
The sound came from his right. He slipped his knife back into its sheath,
patted
other sheathed knives, and undid the thong at his belt to get the bag off. That
hurt, as a shard of pottery emerged from his clothing, and him. That hand
he
moved very slowly, mindful of the clink of broken pottery. He squinted before
he
glanced back, because he did not want his enlarged pupils to shrink.
The window showed a pretty night, small-mooned but dark of sky, without
clouds
or rain. Without even knowing that the rain had been confined to Kurd's
grounds,
Shadowspawn shivered. Did gods exist? Did gods help?
a
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F
f
f
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Y
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A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
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Hanse took a long step into the corridor and turned right. The bag swung at
the
end of its thong from his right hand. Just in case someone popped up, that
might
make him look less deadly: anyone sensible would assume him to be
normally
right-handed.
As he reached the end of the hall with a big door ahead and another on his
left,
someone popped up. The side door opened and light rushed forth. It flared
from
the oil lamp in the hand of a gnome-like man who wore only a long ungirt
tunic;
a nightshirt. 'Here -' he began and Hanse said 'Here yourself and hit him
with
the wet, rent bag of broken pottery. Since it struck the fellow in the face, he
moaned and let go the lamp to rush both hands to . his bloodied face.
'Damn,'
Hanse said, watching hot oil slosh on to the man's tunic and bare legs and
feet.
It also splashed wall and door and ran along the floor, burning. At the same
time, a third groan of unendurable agony rose behind the other door, the big
one
still closed.
'Master!' Hanse screeched, high-voiced. 'FIRE!' And he shoved the squatty
fellow
backwards, kicked the burning lamp in after him, and yanked the door
shut.
Instantly he attacked the other one, and soon entered Hell.
Part of a man lay on a table, a short skinny fellow. He was even shorter and
skinnier now, bereft of both legs and both arms, all his hair, and his left
nipple with part of the pectoral. Even as Hanse shuddered, he knew there
was
only one form of rescue for this wretch. Ignoring the shining sharp
instruments
Kurd used, Hanse drew the arm-long blade those crazies up in the Ilbars
Hills
called a knife, got his best two-handed grip, and struck with all his might.
Blood gushed and Hanse clamped his teeth against vomit. He had to strike
again
to complete the job. Now only a torso lay on the table, and a shuddering
Shadowspawn clung to the weapon as he squinted around a chamber full of
tables
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
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Y
Y
B
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r r
and thoughtfully provided with graded runnels in the floor, for the carrying
off
of blood.
'Thales?'
Two groans replied. One of them ended with 'help', weak as a kitten. It was
not
Tempus's voice, but Hanse went to that table.
'He - he - he's cut off my right arm and... and three fingers of my-my 1-1-le
eft hannnd ... just 10 ... just to...' An enormous bodyshaking shudder refused [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
He did not. He peeled aside the ruined window and peered into a dark
room
containing neither bed nor person. Mindful of his punctured and
lacerated
buttock, he went in. There was nothing to do about his head. He had, after all,
been strangled to death. Or come so close that the difference wasn't worth
considering -save that he was alive, which was absolutely all the difference
that mattered.
After a long measured while of standing frozen, listening, staring in effort to
make his eyes see, he moved. He heard nothing. No groan, no movement, no
rain.
The moon was back. It was not in line with the window, but it was up there
and a
little light sneaked in to aid a thief.
He found a wall, a jamb. Squatted, then went lower, wincing at rearward
pain, to
ensure that no light showed under the door. The latch was a simple press-
down
hook. He took his time depressing it. He took more time in slowly, slowly
pulling open the door. It revealed a corridor or short hall.
While he wondered whether to go right or leftward, that ghastly sound of
agony
came again. This time a pulpy mumble underlay the moaning groan, and once
again
Hanse felt the icy, antsy touch of gooseflesh.
The sound came from his right. He slipped his knife back into its sheath,
patted
other sheathed knives, and undid the thong at his belt to get the bag off. That
hurt, as a shard of pottery emerged from his clothing, and him. That hand
he
moved very slowly, mindful of the clink of broken pottery. He squinted before
he
glanced back, because he did not want his enlarged pupils to shrink.
The window showed a pretty night, small-mooned but dark of sky, without
clouds
or rain. Without even knowing that the rain had been confined to Kurd's
grounds,
Shadowspawn shivered. Did gods exist? Did gods help?
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
Hanse took a long step into the corridor and turned right. The bag swung at
the
end of its thong from his right hand. Just in case someone popped up, that
might
make him look less deadly: anyone sensible would assume him to be
normally
right-handed.
As he reached the end of the hall with a big door ahead and another on his
left,
someone popped up. The side door opened and light rushed forth. It flared
from
the oil lamp in the hand of a gnome-like man who wore only a long ungirt
tunic;
a nightshirt. 'Here -' he began and Hanse said 'Here yourself and hit him
with
the wet, rent bag of broken pottery. Since it struck the fellow in the face, he
moaned and let go the lamp to rush both hands to . his bloodied face.
'Damn,'
Hanse said, watching hot oil slosh on to the man's tunic and bare legs and
feet.
It also splashed wall and door and ran along the floor, burning. At the same
time, a third groan of unendurable agony rose behind the other door, the big
one
still closed.
'Master!' Hanse screeched, high-voiced. 'FIRE!' And he shoved the squatty
fellow
backwards, kicked the burning lamp in after him, and yanked the door
shut.
Instantly he attacked the other one, and soon entered Hell.
Part of a man lay on a table, a short skinny fellow. He was even shorter and
skinnier now, bereft of both legs and both arms, all his hair, and his left
nipple with part of the pectoral. Even as Hanse shuddered, he knew there
was
only one form of rescue for this wretch. Ignoring the shining sharp
instruments
Kurd used, Hanse drew the arm-long blade those crazies up in the Ilbars
Hills
called a knife, got his best two-handed grip, and struck with all his might.
Blood gushed and Hanse clamped his teeth against vomit. He had to strike
again
to complete the job. Now only a torso lay on the table, and a shuddering
Shadowspawn clung to the weapon as he squinted around a chamber full of
tables
a
a
T
T
n
n
s
s
F
F
f
f
o
o
D
D
r
r
P
P
m
m
Y
Y
e
e
Y
Y
r
r
B
B
2
2
.
.
B
B
A
A
Click here to buy
Click here to buy
w
w
m
m
w
w
o
o
w
w
c
c
.
.
.
.
A
A
Y
Y
B
B
Y
Y
B
B
r r
and thoughtfully provided with graded runnels in the floor, for the carrying
off
of blood.
'Thales?'
Two groans replied. One of them ended with 'help', weak as a kitten. It was
not
Tempus's voice, but Hanse went to that table.
'He - he - he's cut off my right arm and... and three fingers of my-my 1-1-le
eft hannnd ... just 10 ... just to...' An enormous bodyshaking shudder refused [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]