Thraxas / Траксас: Десета глава

Английски оригинал Перевод на български

Kushni is the most disreputable area of a city which has more than its fair share of disreputable quarters. The narrow, filthy streets are comprised of brothels, gambling dens, dwa joints and dubious

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taverns. The streets are full of pimps, prostitutes, derelicts, junkies and thieves. It is perverse of the Assassins to have their headquarters there. Not that they're in any danger of being robbed or assaulted

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by any of Kushni's low-life habitues. No one would be so stupid.

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"I'm surprised at you visiting us," says the black-hooded woman sitting opposite me. "Our informants didn't say you were possessed of great intelligence, but neither did they tell us you were a

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I'm sitting in a plain room without decoration of any sort talking to Hanama, Master Assassin, and I can't say I'm enjoying it. Hanama is number three in the Assassins' chain of command, or so I believe.

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They don't publish details of their ranks. She's around thirty, I think, though she looks younger, but it's hard to tell as her head and part of her face are generally covered by a black hood. She is small, very

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pale-skinned, and rather softly spoken.

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"It was easy to break the locking spell on your door," she murmurs. "I doubt if your protection spell would hold out against me for long."

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Little does she know I'm not carrying a protection spell. I put the sleep spell into my subconscious before I came out, and I can't manage two spells these days. Could I utter the sleep spell before she

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made it across the table to kill me? Possibly. Possibly not. I've no intention of finding out.

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"I don't expect to need protection. After all, you're mistaken in thinking I have the Red Elvish Cloth. Why did you think I had it?"

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"Why do the Assassins want it?"

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"What makes you think I would answer questions from you?"

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"I'm just doing my job. And protecting myself. If you, the Society of Friends and God knows who else believe I've got the Cloth, my life isn't going to be worth much. The best I can expect is a long stay in

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the King's dungeon. Or rowing one of his triremes."

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She gazes at me silently. This annoys me.

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"Perhaps I should report last night's events to the Civil Guard," I say. "The Consul and the Praetors tolerate the Assassins because they find them useful. But they wouldn't be very pleased to hear you were

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trying to get your hands on Red Elvish Cloth reserved for the King."

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"We would not appreciate anyone spreading false rumours about us," says Hanama, threateningly.

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"I'd hate to do anything the Assassins would not appreciate. You know anything about the theft of the Cloth?"

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"The Assassins do not indulge in illegal activities."

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"You kill people."

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"No charges have ever been brought against us," says Hanama, coolly.

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"Yeah, sure, I know. Because you're always hired by people rich and important enough to avoid the law. Why are you looking for the Cloth?"

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"No doubt you're aware the Cloth is valued at thirty thousand gurans?"

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Hanama maintains her cool indifference. I get more annoyed.

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"You cold-blooded murderers make me sick. Stay well away from me, Hanama. Bother me again and I'll be down on you like a bad spell."

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Hanama rises gracefully to her feet.

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"Our interview is over," she says, slightly less coolly.

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I've succeeded in riling her. Good. Just goes to show what a reckless old fool I've become, riling an

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Assassin in her own den.

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"Just one last question. How do you Assassins all keep your skin so pale? Is it make-up, or special training, or what?"

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Hanama pulls a bell-rope. Two junior Assassins enter the room and escort me along a corridor to the front door.

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"You should brighten the place up a bit," I suggest. "Get a few pot plants."

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They refuse to reply. Practising being grim-faced, I expect. Outside, in the dusty road, I shudder.

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Assassins. Give me the creeps.

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