unlucky avengers, many hundreds of whom at various times put
the heads who at the other end of the world from the purpose, and who and on the threshold. How many
them it was the share of each of about what revenge then put legends? And
by all it was probably thought: well is not present, it will not happen to me, not
has the rights to occur...
Lungs began to burn painfully. The wolfhound understood that he will not be in time
to return back, and solved: having got stuck here, his dead body on extreme
to measure will poison to the Cannibal a well. He earned by legs even quicker - could not
this tunnel, really, to last infinitely. As suddenly,
absolutely unexpectedly, his hand punched a water surface. Wolfhound
instantly drew aside it. The proximity of air made suffocation intolerable.
After all the Wolfhound overcame himself and slowly, very slowly raised
the head over water.
He well saw in the dark. In the mine nobody cared for that
slaves had enough light. He without effort distinguished stone steps and
wheel with the thick bad chain going to some pipe and
understood where brought it.
That lock from which a secret exit is not provided is bad, and it is better
- several. The chain which is reeled up on a wheel, most likely, lifted
lattice. And the tunnel was just such length to come up, not died,
outside. Means, the conduit could serve also for sending the messenger, and for rescue
precious life of the owner. Entertainingly. And hardly in the lock knew about it
in total. More likely, only the most approximate.
The tunnel conducted further, is now obvious to a well, but the Wolfhound in it not
got. It is much more than chances to get imperceptibly into the lock vaults,
than through the yard. Any vault is opened sometime. Not this night,
so on following. Or in a week. He will wait. He was able to wait.
Having got out of water, the Wolfhound carefully wrung out hair and trousers that not
to give itself wet traces or a casual flop of drops. Untied
spear by hand also moved forward along a narrow stone corridor.
Soon enough the way to it was blocked by a heavy oak door. Locked.
Well of course. Also has to separate a secret manhole from other cellars nothing not
the remarkable, but reliable and constantly locked door. If it not
it will be possible to open, it is necessary to return to a tunnel and to try a well. So
what would work well better.
The wolfhound did not find on doors neither handles, nor wells for a key and not
very much was surprised to it. Was not enough in turmoil of hasty flight yet
to search for the got lost key. By the way, it spoke also about
the fact that doors on its way will hardly appear much.
How it opens?
Thick boards were stitched by a set of bronze rivets. Rub from them
by strong pressing slightly moved under fingers. The wolfhound nestled to
doors ear: everything is silent. He began to press rivets in turn, in a miscellaneous
order. Nothing occurred. Then it pressed down two rivets hands, and
a third - the head. Deeply in a wall water immediately scream,
filling some vessel. The door shuddered and went aside. Judging
on everything, it was not opened very much, long ago: disgusting was distributed
squeal. According to the Wolfhound, on this sound a half had to run together
komes. But when he with a spear on call looked out in the opened corridor,
there was not a soul. Only somewhere behind turn the torch dimly smoked,
inserted into a bracket on a wall.
The door behind the back of the Wolfhound began to be closed. Secret passage
cared for keeping itself in secret. The wolfhound did not begin to spend
time for solving of rivets on the other hand. To come back not
it is necessary.
At first he felt a smell. So the dead person who lay could smell
decade in a grave and besides overcome by diseases and corporal needs.
And time so, was concluded by the Wolfhound, the smell proceeded from live. So, for
most likely the prisoner was turn of a corridor. And to pass it not
it will be possible.
Some poor fellow who went mad in a long imprisonment, which at
type of the unexpected visitor will begin to yell so that on his cries already precisely
will run together the guard, missed a door gnash...
Life disaccustomed the Wolfhound long ago to think at the sight of similar
obstacles. If the madman opens a mouth for shout, it will deafen him
before that makes at least a sound. But there will be no other exit, and
will pierce. Probably that not much from it will lose. The wolfhound stepped for
turn.
The builder who greatly took care of safety of the lock, for some reason
forgot to arrange in it what follows dungeons and torment torture chambers. It seems that
The cannibal had to equip them already then, quickly. At a wall
corridor there was an iron cage serving as far as it was possible to judge
both that and another. In a cage not movably lay it is impossible the thin person,
chained in a chain. Dark eyes looked directly at the Wolfhound, and that at once
understood that before it there was not a madman. Near a cage in a wall
corridor one more door was seen: traces in dust said that it
conducted outside. The wolfhound carefully moved forward, by a cage, but here
the prisoner started talking.
- Dear... - it is slightly heard he said on-segvansk’s, and the Wolfhound
was late thought that the inhabitant of a cage grew blind. The sighted person realized at once
in what language to address it. - It seems to me, you arrived outside,
- the prisoner continued. - You are stolen as a cat: means, you are not a messenger,
for which Vinitary would wait. Tell, the young man what season now on
to the earth?
- Spring, - unexpectedly for himself the Wolfhound answered. Prisoner unmistakably
distinguished hardly noticeable accent and passed to its native language, language
tribe of venn.
- Spring... - he repeated and sighed. - The bird cherry blossoms, probably.
His body was one continuous wound everywhere where it was not covered
smelly rags. The skin covered with ulcers hardly fitted edges, slightly
shuddering against that place where heart needed to be. He started talking
again:
- Make to me one more blessing, the young man. Finish off me. It you not
will complicate and will not detain...
Well, the Wolfhound had to see the crippled soldiers begging
companions to present them fast death. One it it dragged two days on
shoulders, without listening to either damnations, or requests.
He noticed how something guarded the blind person, and during the next instant also
distinguished a slow shuffling of boots. Then in the door lock with that
the parties put a key. The wolfhound receded back for a corner still before
the door began to open. Further depended on whether the prisoner will wish
to give it. The wolfhound would prefer not to make to the last noise.
And what if in a vault the Cannibal welcomed?. No, on it
to hope silly, so much luck simply does not happen at once. And then, вряд
whether the Cannibal came one. Though...
- The owner ordered to ask you once again,
- reached from round the corner. Voice
belonged not to the Cannibal. Speaking obviously did not get used to long conversations. But
got used to daily binge and plentiful, fat food. Door loudly
clanked, being closed.
- To which already time you come here, - with infinite fatigue
the person in a cage responded. - Could and remember that I always to you
I answer.
Something knocked about a floor, and entered hemmed:
- With you, wizards, never beforehand you know. Wolfhound silently
left from round the corner. On a low bench near a cage the person took seat
in the hood pulled over the person. Ties of a leather apron hardly
agreed on a fleshy back. Having bent down, it took out from wooden
boxes of the tool of the craft. It was scaredly thrown up only then,
when the Wolfhound leaned the spear against a wall, having purposely clanked
tip. In a genus of the Grey Dog believed shameful to hit into a back. Even
cannibals. Or executioners.
At the executioner the wide hatchet, the butcher's weapon hung on a belt. Brawny
the hand was thrown was to it, but too late. Fingers of the Wolfhound squeezed
also crumpled his throat. The executioner forgot about a hatchet and tried to open these
fingers, then ceased to twitch and drooped. The wolfhound unclenched hands. Heavy
the body a bag slid off on a floor and it was necessary to lie with unnaturally
the twisted neck. The wolfhound bent down and cut off big from a belt of the dead
bunch of keys.
- If you want, I will tell you how to make the way in a treasury, -
was heard from a cage. - Only I conjure you your Gods, the young man...
satisfy my request. After his neck washing will not seem to you too
thick...
The wolfhound fell on hunkers before a trellised door and was accepted
to try a key.
- Tell better, - he grumbled, - how to find the Cannibal.
He did not wait for the answer intelligibly, but the prisoner responded immediately.
- You will find it on the top, in a bedchamber... if, of course
you will manage to pass there. Today presented to Koons the slave, and he, has to be,
already rose because of a table.
The third or fourth key clicked in the lock. The door turned on
joy not mazany loops.
- But you do not lie? - the Wolfhound muttered. - To you who knows.
- I told the truth, - the prisoner answered and threw back the head, substituting
lean, in scabs, a dirty neck. The wolfhound for a moment looked at it and at that,
as the bulked-up veins pulsed under skin. Its people considered death
udavlennik of dirty. The poor creature, the nobility, reached a limit if it
also such arranged. The wolfhound silently took the withered prisoner's hand - that
moved from a touch - and unlocked shackles, having guessed a key at once and
unmistakably. He well knew by what keys they were locked. If it and
was surprised to what, so unless only to a fine form of a brush and long fingers
- with the nails which are pulled out, however.
- Thanks, the young man, - the prisoner emotionally whispered. - So, so I
I will die not in chains... He obviously did not count on it.
- In that end of a corridor there is a door, - the Wolfhound told it. - At you,
truly, there will be enough mind to find rivets on which it is necessary to press. Further
there will be steps and a tunnel with water. Gather more air, dive and
float to the left. There is a lattice, but I broke out an average rod. Then almost at once
river. You want to live, you will get out.
For it it was very long speech. It rose and, having taken away a spear,
went to a door through which the executioner was. He did not hear any more how the prisoner,
feeling a powerless hand the dissolved cage door, it is slightly heard
murmured:
- I know... I built this lock...
The wolfhound was stolen by transitions of the sleeping lock and thought of why executioners
all countries known to it the victims, as a rule, went to torment
at night. Has to be the presvetly Sun, an eye of Omniscience
Gods, the indecency even through thickness of stone walls did not begin to see clearly. It not
met still any executioner who would not be a coward.
To tell the truth, in the house of the Cannibal only vaults were stone,
bases of protective walls yes subcage. All the rest was worked from
the kind oaks decorating once native hills of the Wolfhound.
The term of their burdensome service will terminate soon... From time to time
The wolfhound took aspen splinters from a zone burse and put them where
could, in any crack between logs. Splinters were wet, blood traces on
them blurred and became visible almost. Anything. To make the business by it it
will not prevent.
Nobody barred the Wolfhound the way. Only several soldiers
he met, rising upward. Three were segvana, edinoplemennik
Cannibal. The others - the mercenaries who long ago forgot what people
generated them to itself on a shame. According to the Wolfhound to hide from them not
would manage unless the baby. And on it for the last eleven years
who only did not hunt...
Twice it passed something like molodechny where slept a dead dream
nicely had fun komesa. Both times of the Wolfhound were taken by a temptation
to incline oil светильничек or to correct a torch thus,
that fire could reach wall curtains. Both times it refused
to itself in it and quietly slid further. Its premature alarm
did not arrange in any way.
Still he thought of that, for what reason the executioner called the person in a cage
wizard. If the Wolfhound in general understood something, to the spravny magician
long ago it would be necessary to dash away on the other end of the world, previously
having paid off with the offender and раскатив the lock on a brevnyshka. Though as nobility
- suddenly at once put on fetters it, and then long did not give water? It seems
conjure when hands are held down and getting thirsty.
So, wizards too sometimes are trapped. Just as
ordinary people. Well not sorcery, really, the Cannibal twisted it...
Now the captured magician, most likely, already floated down the river. Here where waters
as much as necessary...
And what if the Cannibal really plaid about sorcery? And that, if it
from the very beginning knew about appearance of the Grey Dog and allowed it to get so
far only to intercept on the threshold?
The wolfhound forbade himself to think of it. So the hunter who gathered in
the wood, very much drives a thought of a bear.
It took out the last chip from a burse and drove it between the lower wreaths
walls. Than business came to an end, to the Cannibal not to overcome this force. Is not present from
it neither charm, nor defense. Only Gods can stop it, and it is more
anybody. So if Koons Vinitary was not learned to fly yet...
Before the Wolfhound was narrow screw всход. It conducted up. Wolfhound
estimated height of a tower what he saw it from the river. Vskhod for certain was
the last. The wizard told - above. Means, the door is close and - it is possible not
to doubt - the policeman before a bedchamber door.
The shrill maiden shout which reached
from above, and almost at once a scratch
floor boards under the shifting from one foot to the other boots told the Wolfhound that he not
was mistaken.
And still. Even if the Cannibal is truly skillful to conjure, now he was obviously
it is occupied by another.
The wolfhound went up a vskhoda. He knew how to persuade not to creak
any steps, even the most vociferous.
The girl above again cried - long, desperate shout. To a wolfhound
more than once it was necessary to hear such shout. It slid forward, getting all
above. He very much expected to see the soldier before that sees it.
Having bent down, he overcame the last round of a vskhod and stood up straight.
Before it, in ten steps, the wide back of the policeman was seen,
fitted by a leather jacket. From under bottom edge of a jacket the chain armor stuck out.
Having nestled to a door, the soldier tried whether to spot, whether to overhear how
there, inside, his owner had a good time.
The wolfhound quietly knocked with the bent finger on an external wall.
The policeman shuddered and turned back. It did not even grab a sword, being
it is quite sure: someone from seniors caught him in the act and
now will make a rating.
The heavy knife thrown by the Wolfhound on a handle entered to it an eye.
Having jumped forward, the Wolfhound picked up the body which began to fall, slowly
lowered it on a floor and released a knife. Then it was carefully tried on to a door
shoulder. Indeed: it is locked.
Koons Vinitary, the large svetloborody man, stood near a bed,
reeling up a hard wave of pitch silky hair on a fist. At his legs on
to floor the nude slave - the fifteen-year-old beauty with gentle coiled,
untouched body and habits of a wild cat. Vinitariya's boot pressed it in
waist, the hand pulled for hair, forcing a thin body is helpless
to be curved. The cannibal looked down on it, as on a delicious dish,
just given to a table.
This expression did not manage to be gone at once from his face when a door
cracked and failed inside. Failed without any prevention: if
outside the knock of weapon or noise of a fight reached, he by all means would hear.
Vinitary could swear that never saw standing in earlier
breach man. Most of all that was similar on half-civilized, incredibly
furious dog from those that will not move back also before the whole pack of wolves. It
Bloody Revenge Page 2
