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with the broken jaw.
Gradually the meat that had been roasting over the fire vanished, and white,
shiny bones piled up. The bare-breasted woman had now pulled on her tunic
against the night's chill. Blade saw her take the bones and crack them open
with an axe, then pass around the pieces. As the women sucked out the marrow,
Blade felt his stomach heaving again. But there was nothing left in it. After
a while he got it back under control and continued to watch in grim silence,
as motionless as a statue.
After they had eaten, the women drank and washed their greasy hands and faces
with water from skin bags. They collected dry branches from all around their
campsite and piled up the fire until it was a roaring orange pyramid shooting
flames and sparks ten feet into the air. They dug into their sacks and pulled
out heavy hide cloaks. Finally they pulled off their moccasins and tunics,
wrapped themselves in the cloaks until they looked like giant sausages, and
lay down to sleep.
As Blade had expected, the women left only one sentry on guard. It was the
woman who had gone bare-breasted. She was fully armed, with bow, quiver,
sword, and knife. Step by step, Blade began to work his way around the camp to
a spot where he could take the guard from behind.
Each time he stopped, he looked at the camp. It was obvious that the woman's
heart really wasn't in her job. The first time Blade looked, she was
energetically striding about the camp, hand on her sword hilt, eyes trying to
look into the darkness in all directions at once. The second time he looked,
she was standing still, but straight as a tree. The third time, her shoulders
were drooping. The fourth time, she was squatting by the fire, balancing
herself on her bow. The fifth time&
Moving without making a sound, Blade took nearly half an hour to get into
position on the opposite side of the camp. By that time the woman had given up
any effort to stay on her feet. She was sitting on the ground, legs crossed,
bow laid across her knees, shoulders bowed, and head nodding. She was so
obviously fighting to stay awake that Blade could hardly keep from laughing.
All he had to do was wait until she dozed off, then move in. He would get no
more resistance from the camp than he would get from eight newborn babies.
He waited a while longer, until he could be sure that the sentry was as deeply
asleep as the other seven. The chill was beginning to numb his toes and
fingers before he decided to move in. He stood up and worked them to get the
blood flowing again. Then he began a slow, stalking approach, step by step,
feeling his way forward. There was silence in the forest now, except for the
whine of the insects and the occasional crackles of the dying fire. The eight
women made no sound, not even a snore or a moan.
Closer and closer Blade crept. He grinned savagely when he saw that the women
had carefully stacked their weapons in the center of their camp. Once he was
between them and their weapons&
Two, three, four more steps, and he was at the edge of the clearing. Four more
steps and he would be in striking range of the slumped-over sentry. He could
have the whole camp at his mercy within seconds.
And knowing that made it impossible for him to kill. If the eight women had
been coming at him with swords in their hands, he would not have held back
from killing them. Anyone who hesitates in such a situation doesn't live to be
praised for his chivalry. But, as he had anticipated, the women were and would
be as helpless as so many babies. It was hardly in Blade to cut the throats of
eight sleeping men. It was beyond him to do the same to eight sleeping women,
whatever their vices.
But there were other ways to deal with them that would make them think twice
about their next hunting trip. Blade took those last four steps and came up
behind the sentry. His hands flashed down like striking snakes, and his thumbs
snapped shut on key nerves. The woman twitched once, then slumped even farther
down, into an even deeper sleep.
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Blade strode over to the pile of weapons. He picked up a sword and with it cut
all the bowstrings, one by one. Then he threw the bows themselves on the fire.
The arrows followed. The fire, which had been dying down, began to blaze up
again in a great crackling and snapping. Blade began to pick up the swords and
drop them also into the flames. The metal would not burn, but after a few
minutes in the campfire it would have no temper left. The women might be able
to use their swords for butter knives, but not for weapons.
He was picking up the fourth sword when one of the women threw off her cloak
and sat up.
Apparently the sudden flare-up of the campfire had awakened her. Her eyes
widened as she saw Blade's tall figure silhouetted against the fire. Then she
gave a shriek of surprise and fury and hurled herself forward. Her hand
dropped to her belt, and a knife flashed.
Blade could have spitted the woman like a barbecued chicken if he had wanted
to. But he did not thrust with the sword as she rushed wildly at him. Instead,
he brought it over and down, striking hard at her knife hand. He wanted to
disarm her without hurting her, if possible.
But she was moving too fast for such precise aim. The sword ripped into her
hand, and she gave another kind of scream. She lost her balance, but her rush [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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