The Ruby Knight. David Eddings

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СКАЧАТЬ himself in mortal danger, since Sparhawk was not one to let old scores simmer too long.

      Then he heard furtive footsteps behind him in the fog, and he stepped into a recessed doorway and stood very still.

      There were two of them, and they wore nondescript clothing. ‘Can you still see him?’ one of them whispered to the other.

      ‘No. This fog’s getting thicker. He’s just ahead of us, though.’

      ‘Are you sure he’s a Pandion?’

      ‘When you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you’ll learn to recognize them. It’s the way they walk and the way they hold their shoulders. He’s a Pandion all right.’

      ‘What’s he doing out in the street at this time of night?’

      ‘That’s what we’re here to find out. The Primate wants reports on all their movements.’

      ‘The notion of trying to sneak up behind a Pandion on a foggy night makes me just a little nervous. They all use magic, and they can feel you coming. I’d rather not get his sword in my guts. Did you ever see his face?’

      ‘No. He had his hood up, so his face was in shadow.’

      The two of them crept on up the street, unaware of the fact that their lives had hung in the balance for a moment. Had either of them seen Sparhawk’s face, they would have died on the spot. Sparhawk was a very pragmatic man about things like that. He waited until he could no longer hear their footfalls. Then he retraced his steps to an intersection and went up a side street.

      The tavern was empty except for the owner, who dozed with his feet up on a table and with his hands clasped over his paunch. He was a stout, unshaven man wearing a dirty smock.

      ‘Good evening, neighbour,’ Sparhawk said quietly as he entered.

      The tavern-keeper opened one eye. ‘Morning is more like it,’ he grunted.

      Sparhawk looked around. The tavern was a fairly typical working-man’s place with a low, beamed ceiling smudged with smoke and with a utilitarian counter across the back. The chairs and benches were scarred, and the sawdust on the floor had not been swept up and replaced for months. ‘It seems to be a slow night,’ he noted in his quiet voice.

      ‘It’s always slow this late, friend. What’s your pleasure?’

      ‘Arcian red – if you’ve got any.’

      ‘Arcium’s hip-deep in red grapes. Nobody ever runs out of Arcian red.’ With a weary sigh the tavern-keeper heaved himself to his feet and poured Sparhawk a goblet of red wine. The goblet, Sparhawk saw, was none too clean. ‘You’re out late, friend,’ the fellow observed, handing the big knight the sticky goblet.

      ‘Business,’ Sparhawk shrugged. ‘A friend of mine said you have a garret on the top floor of the house.’

      The tavern-keeper’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘You don’t look like the sort of fellow who’d have a burning interest in garrets,’ he said. ‘Does this friend of yours have a name?’

      ‘Not one he cares to have generally known,’ Sparhawk replied, taking a sip of his wine. It was a distinctly inferior vintage.

      ‘Friend, I don’t know you, and you have a sort of official look about you. Why don’t you just finish your wine and leave? – that’s unless you can come up with a name I can recognize.’

      ‘This friend of mine works for a man named Platime. You may have heard the name.’

      The tavern-keeper’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Platime must be branching out. I didn’t know that he had anything to do with the gentry – except to steal from them.’

      ‘He owed me a favour.’ Sparhawk shrugged.

      The unshaven man still looked dubious. ‘Anybody could throw Platime’s name around,’ he said.

      ‘Neighbour,’ Sparhawk said flatly, setting his wineglass down, ‘this is starting to get tedious. Either we go up to your garret or I go out looking for the watch. I’m sure they’ll be very interested in your little enterprise.’

      The tavern-keeper’s face grew sullen. ‘It’ll cost you a silver half-crown.’

      ‘All right.’

      ‘You’re not even going to argue?’

      ‘I’m in a bit of a hurry. We can haggle about the price next time.’

      ‘You seem to be in quite a rush to get out of town, friend. You haven’t killed anybody with that spear tonight, have you?’

      ‘Not yet.’ Sparhawk’s voice was flat.

      The tavern-keeper swallowed hard. ‘Let me see your money.’

      ‘Of course, neighbour. And then let’s go upstairs and have a look at this garret.’

      ‘We’ll have to be careful. With this fog, you won’t be able to see the guards coming along the parapet.’

      ‘I can take care of that.’

      ‘No killing. I’ve got a nice little sideline here. If somebody kills one of the guards, I’ll have to close it down.’

      ‘Don’t worry, neighbour. I don’t think I’ll have to kill anybody tonight.’

      The garret was dusty and appeared unused. The tavern-keeper carefully opened the gabled window and peered out into the fog. Behind him, Sparhawk whispered in Styric and released the spell. He could feel the fellow out there. ‘Careful,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s a guard coming along the parapet.’

      ‘I don’t see anybody.’

      ‘I heard him,’ Sparhawk replied. There was no point in going into extended explanations.

      ‘You’ve got sharp ears, friend.’

      The two of them waited in the darkness as the sleepy guard strolled along the parapet and disappeared in the fog.

      ‘Give me a hand with this,’ the tavern-keeper said, stooping to lift one end of a heavy timber up onto the window-sill. ‘We slide it across to the parapet, and then you go on over. When you get there, I’ll throw you the end of this rope. It’s anchored here, so you’ll be able to slide down the outside of the wall.’

      ‘Right,’ Sparhawk said. They slid the timber across the intervening space. ‘Thanks, neighbour,’ Sparhawk said. He straddled the timber and inched his way across to the parapet. He stood up and caught the coil of rope that came out of the misty darkness. He dropped it over the wall and swung out on it. A few moments later, he was on the ground. The rope slithered up into the fog, and then he heard the sound of the timber sliding back into the garret. ‘Very neat,’ Sparhawk muttered, walking carefully away from the city wall. ‘I’ll have to remember that place.’

      The fog made it a bit difficult to get his bearings, but by keeping the looming shadow of the city wall to his left, he could more or less determine his location. He set his feet down carefully. The night СКАЧАТЬ