Книга только для ознакомления
. Basalt tried to creep soundlessly,
but his foot made an audible thunk as he lowered it into a
muddy patch of ground.
The derro whirled in surprise. Basalt saw the fellow's
wide eyes blink in confusion, and then the mountain dwarf
squinted. "Eh?" the Theiwar began. "Is it time, already?" In
the bright light he mistook Basalt for one of his own com-
rades.
"It's time," grunted Basalt. Suddenly all the tragedy, all
the frustrations and humiliations inflicted by the mountain
dwarves, was focused onto this derro in front of him. Ba-
salt's silver-bladed axe flew forward, biting into the side of
the unsuspecting Theiwar's neck. Soundlessly the dwarf
dropped to the ground.
For a moment Basalt froze, listening and thinking. He
tried to detect some kind of revulsion or horror in himself.
He had never killed anyone before; shouldn't he feel some
remorse? Yet the slaying of the derro seemed like any other
task, difficult and dangerous perhaps, but very necessary.
"That was for Moldoon," he whispered to the corpse.
Then he stepped back around the wagon and gestured to the
others.
The six hill dwarves rushed from their concealment
|
